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THE 

TWO HOUSES 


BY 

ELIZABETH CALVERT 

n 



BOSTON 

THE ROXBURGH PUBLISHING COMPANY 
INC. 




Copyrighted 1918 , 
By Elizabeth Calvert. 
All Rights Reserved. 


OCT -9 1818 


©CI.A50:n69 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER ONE. 

The Rebellion of Thesmi. 

“He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who 
finds peace in his own home.” — Goethe. 

“I should hate awfully to have it known that you 
ever visited such a place,” snapped Miss Gouled, 
housekeeper to her brother, and whose daughter it 
was whom she now harangued. “It is a rendezvous, 
I hear, a regular resort, where all sorts of queer 
ongoings are practiced, and all sorts of people are 
harbored — toughs for all we know. Of course no 
one can say, from what I hear, but that the people 
are respectable enough — even claim to be of some 
foreign high-standing or other. That is all right so 
far as it goes, but why people like them would want 
to live the way they do is more than any one with a 
grain of sense could tell. Helping out — and in such 
a way — every Tom, Dick and Harry they run across. 
What bee will you get in your bonnet next, I 

wonder? If 1 had my way ” 

“It is no rendezvous; there are no queer things 
practiced there ; no ‘toughs’ as you choose to put it, 
are harbored there ; and there is no bee in my bon- 
net,” precisely returned Thesmi Gouled with the 


4 


THE TWO HOUSES 


quiet dignity possessed by some young people at 
times. She turned her back on her aunt and began 
tidying a slightly littered bookcase. She had not 
her aunt’s horror of dust and disorder, but it was 
second nature for her to be doing, and anything 
that employed her hands was a safeguard for her 
temper. 

"‘You have scarcely a friend or an acquaintance 
left on account of neglecting to return calls. You 

can’t be like anyone else. If I had my way 

Well, all I have to say is that your father is furious 
over your intimacy with those creatures !” and with 
a pronounced click Aunt Meg closed the door. She 
was of uncertain years, thin-faced, high-nosed, with 
a great angled forehead. Dragooning others into 
her own narrow aisles of thought was a passion 
with her. And the butcher’s account, the baker’s 
short weight, the servant’s misdemeanors, — these 
were her values. She was lost in a quagmire of 
nonessentials, and followed the old formula of 
housekeeper slavishly. 

“Do you not see that even in heaven some de- 
spise our power? Minerva the wise, and Diana the 
huntress defy us; and there is that daughter of 
Ceres, who threatens to follow their example. Now 
do you — ” The drawling voice came from a couch 
in the far corner of the room, where Althoth — a 
nickname, survival of student days — half reclined. 
A distant relative of Thesmi’s mother and an old 
established feature of the house, he was a gentle- 
man of classical reading ; that was his fetich. 

Thesmi went over to the couch, and pulled the 
reader’s sleeve, at the same time pointing to the 
door. “She says I have a bee in my bonnet,” she 


5 


THE TWO HOUSES 

said irrelevantly to the inextricable Althoth. “Do 
I look like it? What is the matter with me, any- 
how ? Or what is the matter with this House, 
rather? Fm going to have my own way for once, 
and I intend to keep my new friends — and what is 
more Fm going to try and live like them, try to be- 
come like them.” This was given with a young 
girl’s emphasis. 

“My mistress Venus desires me to send you a 

little of her beauty, for ” paid out the scholar, 

loath to divorce eye from page. She waived the 
unintentional pleasantry and burst upon him. 

“Speak plain, can’t you, Althoth? Speak plain 
for once in your life. I might just as well be all 
alone in the world for all the companionship there 
is here for me. I idolize papa, but how much do I 
see of him? I am bursting to come into his heart — 
when he wants me. But he doesn’t! No wonder 

that I If mama had only lived!” the sound of 

a break-down brought the old bookworm up long 
enough to look at her as if it was the first time he 
had seen her. 

“You shouldn’t fly straight in the face of conven- 
tional tradition, Thesmi,” he remonstrated in a gen- 
tle voice. He never concerned himself with any 
practical detail of life, but consumed vast quantities 
of ancient and mouldy history, and this departure 
from his usual reticence brought a look of interest 
to the girl’s face. He still wore the square student’s 
cap with the long tassel which he had worn at col- 
lege in the ancient days; and a dressing gown of 
huge figured stuff enveloped his spare form. 
“Though you are not aware of it, you are some- 


6 


THE TWO HOUSES 


what of a dramatic personage and liable to seek the 

company of queer characters at ” 

“Queer characters ! There it is again ! Even 

you The world would be better if there were 

more queer characters from what I have seen.’^ 
Thesmi’s direct speech disturbed the recluse and he 
tenderly opened a worn copy of Virgil, saying, 
“Turn your attention to the Books, Thesmi, and 
be at peace. There you will learn to understand 
life as it truly is and not as reflected by convention 
and class. But if you will not calm your mind this 
way, accommodate yourself to your surroundings 

and cease this strife. Listen to 

“Not now, Althoth, not now. Some other time 
you may read to me. I love to listen, and I remem- 
ber far more than you give me credit for. But the 
reading would not beneflt me today ; I feel wicked. 
And please don’t quote me as defying anybody. 

Don’t you take sides against me or I shall ” 

“Take sides against my Thesmi ! My happiness 
would be complete if your life were more congenial 

and if you would consent to make a study of ” 

She left the discussion of the classical, the beauty 
of which constantly troubled the scholar, and re- 
turned to her own little affairs. She had an instinct 
for essentials. She had been thrown by chance into 
a different world — a peaceful, individualized place 
of life, altogether foreign to her training, but recog- 
nized instantly as right. 

“I’m not going to give up my new friends, Al- 
thoth. On the contrary. I’m determined to find out 
more about them. I love to be with them.” 

Built squarer than otherwise, Thesmi could not 
be called by any courtesy beautiful. An abnormal 


THE TWO HOUSES 


7 


width between the eyes, blue and deep, marked her. 
Outwardly shy and cold, she was a tempest of feel- 
ing. But the long-continued habit of repressing her 
feelings had well-nigh spoiled her. Internal turmoil 
of spirit saddened her young womanhood, and a 
peculiar sensitiveness constantly crucified her. And 
she hated the way custom had laid out for her. A 
little child was the only thing she felt free to love ; 
and to such she knelt in blind adoration. 

The moon riding high in the heavens, unaspected 
to any planet save the spiritual Dragon’s Head in 
the Ascendant, typified her. She walked life alone. 

A precious thing was Althoth’s love for the girl — 
the only one now to whom he turned. Unwittingly, 
he unearthed for her, from between book covers, 
hidden treasures — things of the spirit — fed her 
manna in the wilderness of materialism through 
which she was passing. And it did not detract in 
the least from their value that he read them alone 
for their classical diction and the beauty of meta- 
phor and simile. And he could read all day, his 
accent never offending, choosing any page, in any 
book, as undiscerning of method as a bee among 
flowers. There were isolated lines too which he 
spoke, and an element of vast antiquity pervaded 
the most of the selections, which would probably be 
classed by the rabble as rubbish. 

Thesmi often pondered over some of the read- 
ings ; and who knows but at this random flame her 
small taper was lit ? It may have been a stimulus to 
thought and memory; her imagination may have 
been awakened by the bits of hidden truth, veiled 
beneath symbolism and allegory. 

Seattle stands out boldly enough before the 




THE two HOUSES 


waters of Puget Sound, far from the culture of the 
extreme East. Hills have been humbled and moun- 
tains honeycombed to allow the Iron Horse to 
prance at her door. Cuts and divides, hills here and 
there, steeples and spires, rose-covered homes and a 
busy, busy mart form the city. And all through the 
conglomeration of traffic and commerce the old- 
timer’s home is pointed out — the “mossbacks”. 
These wooden houses are pretentious mostly in ex- 
travagance of gables and turrets. All have front 
porches and gardens, with an unrare rose or a rusty 
honeysuckle climbing over the fungus-covered roof. 
In one of these old homes overlooking the bay, mod- 
ernized and enlarged, as became semi-pioneer days, 
dwelt Mark Gouled in the glowing comfort and sat- 
isfaction of life, and his daughter Thesmi in insub- 
ordination and honest contempt of much around 
her. Just and high-minded, it was an unbearable 
sense of unjust restriction, a feeling of always being 
at odds with something in her life, that bred this 
inharmony in her nature. 

All the dissatisfaction in the world is little else 
than the soul in revolt. 

Leaving Althoth to his books, Thesmi crossed 
over to the old-fashioned bay window and gazed 
out over the glistening waters of the Sound — the 
life, the busy life of tug and steamer, ferry, launch 
and oar. Then her face shone as her glance 
dropped to the beachcomber’s village and rested on 
a small house, the window of which had been taken 
from a vessel and the sides of the house built to fit 
it. The roof, also, had once covered a ship’s cabin, 
while canvas fastened down with battens covered 
the outer wall. What an old fragile thing it was 


THE TWO HOUSES 


9 


that guarded the inmates from the elements! But 
to Thesmi, judging from her gaze, it might have 
been Valhalla, the great hall of Odin, where the 
boar Schrimnis was served up and was abundant 
for all who feasted there. 

In shocking contrast to her own rigidly enforced 
conventional home life, the other rose up before 
her. The impression left on her mind by the com- 
munion of spirit, and by the merging of the super- 
flous into the simplest lines of life was all of a char- 
acter to contrast every usage in her own home ; and 
consequently she became iconoclastic in her views, 
which she was adaptable enough to perceive. And 
this same adaptability induced her to brave all op- 
position either of relative or friend. 

Visit after visit was made to the other house, and 
encounter after encounter took place between her 
and her aunt. Her father, lending his ears, met her 
warm approaches with coldness and censure. 

She never was in an odor of sanctity with her 
family, but this morning’s skirmish with her aunt 
had nearly proved too much for even her indepen- 
dent spirit. 

But, necessarily, these emotional experiences were 
episodic. She did not live all her days torn with 
agitation or rebellion against a formal, ossified ex- 
istence. She was a music lover, an amateur 
devotee of the violin. Unconsciously, growth was 
gained through the practise of her music, and it 
enabled her to round out partly the difference 
between her interior nature and her exterior 
circumstances. 

Hours passed as minutes while she practiced, 


10 


THE TWO HOUSES 


and when her violin activity had departed from 
her, she sought out Althoth the scholar. 

“When you come across that queer story of Or- 
pheus — where the gods shed tears when they hear 
him play — will you please make a note of it for me ? 
Or mark the place ; I haven’t time to look it up and 
I want to show it to a friend. There are other 
beautiful passages about music that I remember 
hearing you read, Althoth. Won’t you make notes 
of them for me? Any time will do for the others, 
the one about Orpheus I should like soon.” 

“Nothing will give me greater pleasure, Thesmi, 
unless it would be seeing you read the books for 
yourself — the passages, marvels of beauty and style. 
Vision, faith, courage, noble passion, love, all are 
offered to you if you will but read.” Althoth 
dropped back to his beloved pages, a halo of seren- 
ity overspreading his face. But though he read un- 
disputed classics nearly every hour of the day, he 
was not wasting his time. He received what litera- 
ture had to give. In the stress of fine ideas and 
emotions he truly lived. 

Thesmi knew the favor of the notes would be 
forthcoming, neatly tabulated in his exquisite cop- 
per-plate handwriting. 

She left the room, his voice softly pedalling after 
her a favorite line. Reopening the door, she called 
back, “Papa has come. Dinner is about to be 
served.” 

When Thesmi entered the dining room, her 
father was already seated. He greeted her man- 
nishly, at once asking. 

“Have you returned the Misses Wilburtons’ call, 
yet? I don’t care to have them get offended. I 


THE TWO HOUSES 11 

have business reasons for keeping in with their 
father.” 

“She hasn’t returned any calls that I know of,” 
broke in Aunt Meg harshly, “Except ” 

“She hasn’t again visited those people, has she?” 
His question was directed to his sister, but his eyes 
were focussed on his daughter’s clear-cut, half- 
defiant face. He was punctilious with respect to 
his home and selfish to a degree in the keeping up 
of appearances. 

Hasty words sprang to Thesmi’s lips, which 
she instantly suppressed, some second thought 
seeming to master her, and her face softened, as it 
nearly always did when she looked at her father, 
a look of peculiar longing that he never took time 
to notice, and she pleasantly answered, 

“I will call on the Wilburtons, papa, if it will 
accommodate you any. But I really have nothing 
in common with the girls. You know that, don’t 
you?” Her voice became a trifle higher-pitched 
as she added, “Why should I not be allowed to 
choose my own company? I am old enough to 
take care of myself, and able enough — and you 
both know it.” 

“I don’t know anything — nor don’t want to 
know,” said her father in a loud emphatic tone, 
“about what you have in common with them or 
any one else. All I know is that you are never to 
the fore among my friends when I want you. I 
might as well give over keeping up this establish- 
ment for all the showing you make. It all counts, 
too, in a business way, for a man to be able to 
show up his folks; it looks as if he didn’t give 
them enough to live on in style when no one knows 


12 


THE TWO HOUSES 


them or invites them out.” Mark Gouled’s whole 
vigorous personality was concentrated on commer- 
cial success and outward appearances. 

If Aunt Meg had not been so intent at that 
moment upon a momentous question — and all such 
questions were the only ones worthy of being 
paramount in any one's mind — as to whether the 
butcher had sent home the roast she had selected 
with such shrewishness, or had substituted an- 
other — a less juicy rib, — more unpleasantness 
might have been heaped upon Thesmi's brown 
head, but as it was she evidently felt that the girl 
had had sufficient for one day. 

Some one has justly observed that the most pro- 
lific case of unhappiness is making our happiness 
compulsory. 

Mark Gouled had the clear-cut lips that so many 
of the faces — mode-hammered — of our best busi- 
ness men have. He was accounted financially 
independent. But what a misnomer the word was 
when he carried a whole galleyload of pride and 
ambition that bent him to the earth! His whole 
conversation was the dry jargon of money-getting. 
Apparently he had not another earnest thought but 
what appertained to his commercial success. In 
his eager trafficking he was coining the best gifts 
of life into money. The bait, too, of riches attracts 
just such men — men of imaginative mind, large 
vision^ large brains ; they feel that there is nothing 
but themselves to permanently exclude them from 
the circle of the rich. 

On rare occasions, faint echoes were borne 
over the hills of yesterday — echoes of dreams — of 
a corn-colored girl, corn-colored as to hair, hat, 


THE TWO HOUSES 


13 


gown, and even the cornflower’s color, her eyes of 
blue, even as he, the money-getter, had first seen 
her; and, later, of a voice, her voice, urging him 
on to the culture of his voice — a rich baritone, his 
endowment from the gods. But she died. And 
even had she lived, she could not culture his soul 
for him. He could hire men to improve his lawn, 
true, but he had to do his own soul-cultivation. 
But the fact that he had answered ever so slightly 
to the oscillations of the upward arc, bespoke the 
man’s soul. And he was on his way; only this 
leaving the main tract — how much longer it would 
keep him from home ! This soft friction — the 
yesterday’s echoes — had retarded perhaps, from 
an inclined plane, his spiritual fall for a time, but 
the force of gravity, money-getting, was accelerat- 
ing his speed hourly. 

The class that had long been known as the 
“beachcombers,” a cosmopolitan settlement, in the 
northern part of the city, occupied the base of the 
cliff, and extended even beyond the water mark. 
The dilapidated but picturesque huts huddled 
under the overhanging bank, were secure enough, 
but those built on piles driven in the strips of sand 
between the high and low-tide lands, were often 
swept by the combing tops of great breakers. 
Heavy-faced Indians, red-headed Danes, Swedes, 
Norwegians, black-eyed Greeks and swarthy 
Italians fished, picked up driftwood and earned a 
dollar at longshore jobs. Its name gave it a dignity 
and a suggestion of pirating; it gained caste by 
the ununiformity of its homes. Becoming one 
with the city it yet asserted its right to be without 
tax or license. 


14 


THE TWO HOUSES 


Among this amphibious nondescript population, 
where a dozen languages and dialects were spoken, 
seclusion and unidentity were easily secured. It 
was a precious haven for some, a gehenna for 
others. 

It was while sketching this classical scene that 
Thesmi had discovered her new acquaintances. 
No road ran along the beach, and she was picking 
her way gingerly between the houses, now walking 
on narrow boards insecurely laid from pile to pile, 
now on large logs, now on stones, when she lost 
her footing and tumbled in a heap in front of the 
house with the ship-cabin roof. She gave a little 
cry of pain, and in an instant, an incredibly short 
instant, it seemed to her, she was lifted and carried 
into the house. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


15 


CHAPTER TWO. 

Thesmi’s New Friends. 

“Woman has so long lived kneeling in the shadow that 
our prejudiced eyes find it difficult to seize the harmony 
of the first movements which one makes when rising to 
her feet in the light of day.” 

It was a man, evidently a foreigner, who had car- 
ried Thesmi in, but immediately upon the closing of 
the door a woman, swarthy and of commanding 
presence, caught her hands and pressed them 
warmly, releasing them only to pat them over and 
over, while in a deep voice that softened the spirit, 
she said, 

“That was a bad fall, Little One, but the shock 
will soon pass. Don’t be alarmed; we will care for 
you; you are safe here. Our small haven shelters 
many, but seldom do we have such a one as you 
to care for.” 

She- was simply clad, but what distinguished her 
was a certain fixedness of bearing. She might have 
been the pole star Polaris holding the universe in 
poise, without variableness or shadow of turning. 
Her straight black hair grew low on her forehead, 
which was broad, square, intelligent. Her dark 
eyes, of a humid softness, never seemed to look 
into another’s, rather above them and beyond; and 
while in this attitude she gave out a constant low 
“h — mm, h — mm,” as if communing with herself, 
as if assigning the soul before her; or it could have 
been a liturgy — part of a collect. But the chief 


16 


THE TWO HOUSES 


charm lay in her hands — the restfulness of them, 
the benediction of them. And they were not beau- 
tiful hands; the fingers were thick, and the skin 
rough, as some skins constitutionally are. Had she 
risen, and was she standing in the light of day? 
At all events she was out of the ordinary in some 
way. 

Thesmi wore a look of astonishment. She lay 
snuggled up on a strip of a bed, which had been 
hastily let down from the wall when she was 
brought in. The room, low-ceiled and filled with 
odd crannies, had almost a twilight atmosphere, 
which, after the glare of the sun, was particularly 
restful; and a faint odor, of something burning — 
incense — pervaded the place. Everything in the 
room featured unusualness; perhaps the furnish- 
ings and the odd adjustments of them had some- 
thing to do with it. Curious wave-planed drift- 
wood, salvage picked up after every hard wind- 
storm, was wrought into seats and stands. One 
long shelf was as pallid as the bodies of the dead 
picked up at sea, the grain etherealized from com- 
mon texture to some unique wood; and a shingle 
bolt, shining like satin, set close against the wall 
contained a large book. 

How rather wise looking home made things are, 
— as if so much could be told. But then the 
Delphic Oracle is never mentioned with garrulity. 

The only other occupant of the cabin — for the 
man had at once disappeared after bringing Thesmi 
in — was another woman seen through a chink in a 
curtain, which divided olf an adjoining room. With 
face solemnized, she stood in a posture of adora- 
tion before a small altar, or something simulating 


THE TWO HOUSES 


17 


such, draped with white cloth, and set close to the 
head of a simple bed. A taper burned low before 
a crucifix hung on the wall, and from it a super- 
natural radiance was reflected on the woman’s face, 
which was grave and thoughtful and no longer 
young. With upturned eyes and hands held up, 
as if her soul was uplifted on high, she seemed 
lost in an ecstasy, a fervor of holy feeling, as if 
she heard her High Mass. It was only an instant’s 
glimpsing and it seemed an intrusion on the silence 
of the eternal. It was not, apparently, a pious act, 
strictly speaking, a sense of religious ardor. The 
act seemed something instinctive, an unconscious 
flight of spirit, — an Elijah-like taking up into 
heaven. Or it could have been an old Aztec cere- 
mony. And at any rate it was the basis of some 
queer legends among the villagers. 

Some ancient idea of what the church was first 
intended for, doubtless. 

What was here on this side of the threshold, 
what mysterious atmosphere, while outside, an 
ever-present atmosphere, there was nothing but 
squalor and glare? Whence came this greatness, 
this Essentiality, in the midst of such Meagreness? 

Was Thesmi seized with desire, and for what? 
She looked as if a new vortex of life was opening 
up before her. 

The woman seen through the curtain entered the 
room, but upon observing Thesmi made a move- 
ment to leave. She was stayed by the other, who 
motioned her forward, saying, 

“This young girl fell from the planks while 
sketching. She is resting.” Then turning to 
Thesmi, she continued, “This is Ishna,” waiting 


18 


THE TWO HOUSES 


courteously for the other name to complete the 
society formula. 

“My name is Thesmi Gouled and I live in that 
canary-colored house on the hill, up there,” and 
Thesmi pointed in the direction of her home. “I 
have always wanted,” she continued vivaciously, 
“to make a water-color drawing of this queer part 
of town — Shantytown it is called, isn’t it?” The 
latter part of the speech was given rather apolo- 
getically in the presence of the Women before her. 
There was no answer, and she continued with that 
queer driven sense of having to talk that one has 
with some people, “I suppose every one has a 
craving to know intimately what others are doing. 
I know I have. I’m awfully curious! I had no 
idea, after leaving the foot of Virginia street, that 
there was no path. But I kept on. I hate to give 
in. Don’t you?” and she looked at the Women 
piquantly. 

“And my name,” said the hostess, in her fine 
controlled voice, after Thesmi had got wholly 
through, “is Signa; so now we are acquainted.” 

“Please excuse me,” begged Thesmi, made con- 
scious of her ill-breeding in interrupting the intro- 
ductions. 

When animated, a look of extreme youthfulness 
broke over Thesmi’s face, and she always looked 
much younger than she really was. 

Eminently practical, both women had at once 
become busy-handed, the one with a darning needle 
and the other repairing demoralized overalls. Bits 
of twine, wire, — and even in one place, a nail — a 
man’s mending, surely — held together the various 


THE TWO HOUSES 19 

rents and holes of the garment. These were dis- 
placed by neat patches and strong stitches. 

Every home has its own atmosphere. Something 
here provoked unto love; something breathed to 
the saving of the soul. Thesmi looked as if she 
was experiencing perfect peace. Was it engend- 
ered by the personality of the Women? Or was it 
born of the neutrality of the unknown? Speech 
seemed superfluous. Such recognition does not 
come except to those who need it. 

Was this the dance of the worlds, this gentle 
touch of spirit in each other — the dance of the 
worlds, the spectacle seen once in a thousand years 
by souls of transcendental excellence. 

“A trinity — Three in one,” murmured the one 
spoken of as Ishna. “There is accord here, perfect 
accord. We should meet again.” A look of rec- 
ognition passed between the two Women as Ishna 
drew the other’s attention to Thesmi’s face. With 
a gesture that was more expressive than any hack- 
neyed remark, she indicated that something which 
pleased her greatly was found there. 

While apparently normal in other respects, it 
was evident that Ishna required constant watch- 
fulness on the part of Signa to prevent the involun- 
tary act of worship — a touch of the hand, a look 
being sufficient to check the inclination to throw 
up her hands to heaven. 

What were the strange unwritten laws of this 
household, where an expression of face, a glance 
of the eye, was treasured and counted with care? 
What was this something which the senses could 
not immediately understand? 

And did these Women ever ask themselves what 


20 


THE TWO HOUSES 


was happening outside? Surely, for was it not 
evident that there was something like an all-seeing 
eye somewhere, else how came it that such swift 
and timely aid came to Thesmi when needed? 

“Oh, I hope we shall meet again,” Thesmi re- 
joined earnestly. “There are so few — so very few 
— whom I can really visit with or feel in sympathy 
with. I often feel alone, terribly alone. If mama 
had lived it would have been different, I know.” 

Signa’s benedictive hand passed over her face 
and she regained her composure. 

Was it because these people could drop the com- 
monplace at will and enter into another and higher 
realm that their lives were so constantly being en- 
riched, and thereby they could enrich others? 

“Well,” Ishna dropped her work an instant and 
looked intently at the girl, — the word “well” was 
always given the sound of the French e — a, — “how 
strange that you should have been led here ! Odd 
contacts bring about new and wonderful growths 
sometimes, and rarer often than the old growths. 
We are always being led, are we not?” 

Though Signa seemed not unaware of Ishna’s 
singularity, a marked deference was paid to every 
word she uttered, as if the highest truth was being 
revealed. 

Ishna was fragile in the extreme, and sallow. 
She had a fine brow and a thoughtful, earnest 
manner. She never laughed. There was a certain 
allurement about her; sometimes it was her fine 
sense that charmed, sometimes her mystery. The 
spirit in her was constantly being let out by her 
belief that the common happenings of life were 
indicative of workings of the real law of being. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


21 


“It must be as Ishna says, Little One,” Signa 
smiled to Thesmi, once more checking the involun- 
tary act of her companion to worship, “a good 
direction sent you here. It is significant that we 
meet. Higher friendships, new ties, perhaps, in 
the near future.” 

Enigmatical as most of this was, Thesmi has- 
tened to ask as she rose to go, “May I come again ; 
may I come and talk with you? Please let me. 
I love to be here. It is as if something I needed 
was found here. And there is such an odd feeling, 
as if I had known you before; but that can’t be. 
What it is I don’t know.” 

Some stimulus to the remembering cells was here, 
perhaps. 

As Thesmi stepped from the threshold, she 
nearly fell over a half-witted man sitting on the 
steps. She recalled seeing him often accompany- 
ing the fishermen in their rounds from door to 
door, a kind of common drudge, repaid by cast-off 
clothes and an occasional meal. When Signa 
handed him the mended bundle, the overalls made 
decent and comfortable, he shuffled away, his loose 
mouth working pleasedly as he fumbled at the 
clothes. 

There was here some discord that clashed with 
the attainment of this human being. Something 
was out of tune; that was all. 

The same man appeared as promptly as when 
Thesmi had fallen, and motioned her to follow 
him. Evidently he had stepped from an adjoining 
house, a double-decker, having an outside stair 
leading to the loft. It had a flag-pole at the door, 
the stars and stripes saluting a Venice landscape; 


22 


THE TWO HOUSES 


waving a challenge too, perhaps, to the Olympic 
Mountains — to the old gods to come and occupy 
royal haunts once more. 

Thesmi, conscious of her incongruity with the 
place, and of the comments heard around, stepped 
nervously from spot to spot, guided by her com- 
panion. He led her out by a much easier way, past 
stranded driftwood and unplumb huts, some of 
them garnished with sections of fence boards, to 
which huge letters still adhered. He appeared 
about forty, and, while powerfully built, yet gave 
one the impression of extreme gentleness. He had 
not uttered a word, but used a peculiar groping 
action, waving the forefinger of his right hand in 
the air, making what looked like geometrical 
figures; or as if, like lo inscribing her name on 
the sand with her hoof, he wanted to make himself 
known. 

An Austrian fisherman’s hut which they passed, 
notably clean and trim, was unusually crowded and 
lively. The fisherman, formerly a sailor, was sing- 
ing his country’s songs at the top of his voice, from 
a well-thumbed book. What an appreciative, if 
restless, audience he had ! 

Bodies of people thrown together, themselves 
ignorant — as we term education — recognize one 
another’s parts — spirit measures spirit — through all 
degradations, all environment. And this recogni- 
tion, blind as it is, is a source of fellowship, an 
uplift, a comfort. Dumb to the world at large, 
they feel that their strong parts are known and 
understood, and this alleviates their sorrows and 
retards degeneration. Though they themselves 
could not name their own parts, perhaps, definitely, 


THE TWO HOUSES 


23 


crude and unpolished as they necessarily are, yet 
if one of their number were to become sufficiently 
educated to be able intelligently to tabulate, to 
express this, he might give you in one of his former 
companions, a Milton, it might be, the poetic sweep 
escaping in some rare rhythmic handling of the 
machinery, some deft far-sightedness of his own 
in the affairs of the engine. Or it could be a 
Rembrandt, working out the deep shadows and high 
lights, in the pattern given to the loom. 

Though theirs is not the sprightly quickstep, they 
keep before them the rhythm of the daily tread. 

This is their way of showing themselves, just as 
the gods’ way of showing themselves down here, 
in the water running, the fire burning, the moon 
shining. 

“You’re limping and as white as a sheet,” Aunt 
Meg snapped out when Thesmi returned home that 
evening. “Where have you been all afternoon?” 
Her lynx eyes went all over the girl, taking note 
of her appearance, with hands thrown up at the 
soggy shoes and creased suit. 

In her truthful, impulsive way, knowing no evil, 
Thesmi gave a glowing account of her visit to the 
cabin, pointing out the abode to her aunt from the 
window. 

“You don’t mean to say that you spent your 
afternoon in that hole?” shrieked her aunt in 
horror. 

“That hole!” retorted Thesmi with spirit. “It is 
no hole. It is as clean and neat and comfortable 
as our own home and much more like ” 

Further parleying ceased, for Aunt Meg sud- 
denly darted to the dining room. A mat was miss- 


24 


THE TWO HOUSES 


ing from the table. Driblets of scolding could be 
heard all the way to the kitchen, the servants’ over- 
sights being enumerated. 

The immaculateness of the table appointrnents 
testified to the housekeeper’s scrupulous conscious- 
ness as such ; it could be said to her credit, that she 
never grew slack or careless, even in her least im- 
portant duty; and she may have evolved some kind 
of harmony from this completeness in her domestic 
sphere, for to be human a virtue must be owned 
somewhere, but zeal consumed her and her tact. 
She wasted her energies over nonessentials. 

It was from the Austrian who served the house 
with fish that Aunt Meg got all her water-front 
information. She was not averse to gossip with 
back-door callers, provided the choice cut of the 
fish or the pick of the early vegetables fell her way. 

Expecting a good day’s sale, the fish vendor was 
well accoutred and now pageanted at the back door. 

“You ask me, madam,” he waived, answering her 
inquiries as to the character of the Women on the 
beach, “who they are, but I can tell not. They 
come from where we people down there know not ; 
they go, perhaps, where we not know. We know 
them? Yes no 1 can say not.” He ar- 

ranged his clean, oilskin-lined basket on the porch 
and continued. “How do they live? People can 
live not near each other without knowing some- 
thing. They who see, they say they eat no meat, 
but I see it not. We know these Women, we not 
know them.” 

Though the man’s talk was the refuse of lan- 
guage, he evidently had some glimpses of pride and 
ambition — even humor- — or a shrewdness that 


THE TWO HOUSES 25 

looked like it. Sometimes he rapped out a word 
and it sounded like a curse. 

His eyes were small but deep-set and alert, and 
they peered out from beneath a low, broad fore- 
head hung with deep waves of black hair seen be- 
neath his broad-brimmed hat. His mouth was 
more cleanly chiselled than his burly form war- 
ranted, and his chin, though massive, was yet 
childishly dimpled. He loved an audience, and he 
gained his customer’s ear a little longer by allotting 
her the prime cut of the steel-head salmon she had 
been poking into. 

The Austrian never gave a distinct statement ; no 
miraculous tendencies were plainly shown, but 
singular things were hinted at of the Women hear- 
ing calls for help when the distance precluded the 
idea of hearing calls, precluded the idea of sound 
reaching them. And queer side-lights were thrown 
on out-of-the-way rescues. Though stolid of mind 
and heavy of bearing, the primitive wonder of 
things still held him. 

“How do they know that people get hurt? How 
do they get to the place ?” It was hard to illumin- 
ate the unfeeling Meg. 

Folding his brawny arms across his broad chest, 
his eye enquiringly earnest, he answered : “Madam, 
how did Christ know when the sick in the multitude 
pressed to his side to be healed? The sufferers 
waiting for him, how were they healed? I not 
that know. I not know about the Women. They 
heal, too; they give us healing things, but” with a 
suggestive shrug, “we cannot heal with them; only 
when the Women are there is anyone healed. 
Them’s valuable women. How do I all that know? 


26 


THE TWO HOUSES 


Madam,” the voice was lowered, the eyes widened, 
the hands more emphatic, the fingers of each out- 
spread as if ready to span worlds, “they do as Christ 
did. The Bible says Christs there will be. I read 
my Bible. I go to church. On Sunday I dress up 
and walk around. I have good clothes. My big 
chest is full of good things. I have money. I go 
to the old country last year to see my friends.” 

“What else do you know about them? How do 
they get their living?” Only the hope of getting 
hold of some tangible delinquency on the part of the 
beachcomber Women kept his customer at the door, 

“I have been all over the world, madam,” he 
answered in a low, confidential tone, leaning over 
his basket knowingly. “I have been to Honolulu, 
Tartary, Russia — everywhere — and I have seen all 

kinds of women, even ” he lowered his voice to 

a stage whisper, “women who go naked all the time, 
I ” 

“Women what?” screeched the housekeeper furi- 
ously blinking. 

“Women who go naked all the time ; I have seen 
them bathing in the sea ; every day they go in bath- 
ing. But ” A comprehensive sweep of the arm 

widened his listener’s horizon as to what he could 
say. “Madam, ” 

“Bring smelt and a bake of halibut next week.” 
Aunt Meg was already behind the screen door, bar- 
ricaded behind her propriety. She did not care a 
jot for his posing nor his history. 

The fisherman could do no more than show what 
the Women seemed to him, and not what they 
really were. He was no apologist. The account 
was wild and overcharged, but undoubtedly behind 


THE TWO HOUSES 


27 


such strange gossip there was something real, some- 
thing worth knowing. If they had a religion of 
their own it must have been a living one — a practi- 
cal one. And such distinction in the rudimentary 
district, of the little rites, prescription of ritual, 
would undoubtedly seem more forceful than in 
more enlightened quarters. 

There was no denying that the beachcombers 
were a loose, unorganized lot, but if the house- 
keeper, in her stintedness, had listened to the words 
she would have learned that even such a place as 
that was not a desert. 

She went directly from the fisherman to Althoth 
and broke in on his smoothliness. 

“The fisherman has just been telling me all about 
those women on the beach. They are some kind of 
crazy people. Thesmi will be as silly as they are 
before long. There is no telling what her father 
will do. She is making a fool of herself and all 
those belonging to her. If you uphold her in this 
there’s no telling what will happen. If I had my 


“Please, ma’am,” the servant announced, “the 
man is here to lay the stair carpet.” 

Althoth, looking perplexed, had stopped short in 
the reading of Virgil aloud, but happily relapsed. 

“O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate; 

What goddess was provoked, and whence her hate; 

For what offence the queen of heaven began 

To persecute so brave, so just a man.” 

Aunt Meg’s voice at the top of the stairs drowned 
the words. A fierce altercation between her and 
the carpet dealer ended by her sweeping the rods 
and tools after the man as he descended the stairs. 


28 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER THREE. 

Neighbor Sophy. 

“That which the droning world, chained to appear- 
ances, will not allow the realist to say in his own words, 
it will suffer him to say in proverbs without contra- 
diction.” 

— Emerson. 

Thesmi rarely escaped, even for a day, acquir- 
ing a few demerit marks. This constant friction 
biased her life; her girl-days would have been more 
gladsome, her mental growth more vigorous had it 
not been. Just as an orchard of young trees are 
seen leaning away, instead of rising straight, from 
prevailing winds that bend them over while not yet 
strong enough to resist the elemental force. 

Thus it was that neither peace nor harmony pre- 
sided over the household. Simple little facts, com- 
monplace situations, were ranged alongside the 
immaculate table linen and explained themselves. 
Her so-called misdemeanors were magnified into a 
hateful annoyance- Indeed, if a stranger had 
taken the liberty to listen, a very questionable 
young woman would have been suspected of being 
at large. 

Her aunt’s Philistine character — though no one 
called it that — was a constant thorn in the flesh. It 
must be confessed that at this stage Thesmi enter- 
tained the idea that housekeeping was such a little 
paltry detail sort of a thing that it ought not to 
produce such a flamboyant setting as that which 


THE TWO HOUSES 29 

her relative gave it. She was to find out her mis- 
take later. 

There was always a certain withholding in 
Thesmi’s nature, as it were, and this very with- 
holding added a little piquancy to all she said or 
did. Although impressing one sometimes with a 
certain tameness — a simple tonality — as is often 
seen in the sky and land — no actual colors, no very 
positive ones to attract, yet each trait had its 
proper pronouncement; thus there was a harmony 
pleasantly engaging. 

She had no real tenable theory of life as yet. It 
was the spirit in her that forced the contact, the 
stirrings of the spirit rather than the demands of 
the body that impelled her to seek such companion- 
ship as the odd family on the beach offered, spirit- 
ual gravitation. And spiritual law is as answerable 
to cause and effect as physical law. And it goes 
without saying that laws are in operation long be- 
fore they are discovered. But the discovery and 
application of laws enhance their value. 

Thesmi had that fine reticence that hides trouble 
even from the nearest. Her father’s understand- 
ing was faulty, his sympathy more so, and her 
aunt’s high temper precluded confidence. Althoth 
was the only one in the household she turned to 
when nagged beyond endurance. 

“Thesmi,” he said, looking at her with moist 
eyes, and waving an open book held carefully be- 
tween his spread fingers. “I have an anxious 
heart when you go down to that place. Stay away 
for the present and oblige me. Your aunt says that 
it is becoming neighborhood gossip that ” 

Thesmi’s look of surprise and indignation closed 


30 


THE TWO HOUSES 


the scholar’s mouth at once. It was so unusual for 
him to take so much notice of what was passing in 
the household and he looked so troubled that 
evidently she decided to let his warning pass un- 
heeded. She turned away without answering. 

“I always have to fall to my prayers the minute 
your aunt comes near me, Miss Thesmi. Here she 
comes!” A soft flush suffused the face of the 
neighbor, colloquially known as “Sophy”, and who 
assisted in the household when wanted. She had 
been going back and forth bringing in some small 
well brushed rugs from the front yard, and now 
busied herself placing them. “I felt as sweet- 
tempered as an angel out there at my work,” she 
said, pointing to the front of the house where a 
small grove of primeval fir and cedars, ever 
fragrant, ever green, still stood as a reminder of 
the forest. “Did you see her snatch the rug out of 
my hands. Miss Thesmi? It defied her though to 
whip a speck more dust out of it.” 

Neighbor Sophy lived with her son, who bore 
the ancient name of Callimachus, just adjoining 
the Gouled home. She was a privileged character 
in some ways. 

“And the only other time,” she continued seeing 
that she had gained Thesmi’s ear, “that I fall to 
my prayers is when I get into one of my queer 
states in the night time. So you may know. But 
your aunt’s persecution is a thing you can take a 
hold of, but you can’t of the other. My Callie says 
that that is what is meant by the Psalmist praying 
for deliverance from evil ones, the enemies. That 
is where Christ comes in. That is His mission — 
to deliver us from these awful ones that come from 


THE TWO HOUSES 


31 


within — or without, I don’t know which. But I do 
more than just pray then; I call for help. I’m in 
earnest then. The only reason I fall to my prayers 
when she comes around is to save myself from 
sinning my soul calling her bad names.” 

Neighbor Sophy was in front of Althoth’s couch 
by this time, down on her knees smoothing out a 
strip of carpet. She stood up to listen. 

“Two gates the silent house of sleep adorn; 

Of polished iv’ry this, that of transparent horn; 

True visions through transparent horn arise; 

Through polished iv’ry pass deluding lies.” 

‘‘My dreams are like that. Miss Thesmi. They 
are always true. Everything that Althoth reads 
has a meaning. I try to remember every word so 
as to be able to tell Callie. Last night I had 
a queer dream about ” 

Aunt Meg stood in the doorway, her face purple 
with rage at the dallying of the help. 

Thesmi had always before her the possibilities 
of the soul, if allowed freedom — though she could 
not have framed the thought in language. She had 
insight and an artistic temperament and when 
conventional life became too straight laced she re- 
volted. To her the constant enactment of the 
house drama became an irritant. It became a spur 
to her discontent of such a life. For it was from 
the very height of her nature that she had become 
slipshod of society-usage. She was fully con- 
scious of her own half-formed ideals and her fam- 
ily’s expectations of her. 

All this irritated her father in turn. He could 
not believe that such intimacies as the village could 


32 THE TWO HOUSES 

be compatible with self-respect or edifying in any 
way- 

Yet Thesmi's first troubles were not dramatic 
at all — monotony, disappointment — these do not 
enter the dramatic field. 

Thesmi made a longer stay than usual one eve- 
ning, and Ernst, the Women’s ally, waving his 
hand hither and thither, escorted her, at Signa’s 
bidding, as far as her home, right under the eyes 
of, a tattling neighbor. 

Next day her aunt, who had evidently received 
a great amount of information from some one, 
pounced upon her as she was assisting inconse- 
quential Althoth to a neater disposition of his 
books. What a look of serenity and peace his 
countenance wore as he watched her carefully 
place his volumes on a bamboo stand, well shelved, 
which she had ordered for that purpose! 

“My neighbor tells me,” she began, but Thesmi 
was prepared and snapped her up. 

“Oh, yes, your neighbor, indeed! Your neigh- 
bor, whom you never speak to unless she is gossip- 
ing about some one ; you listened to her, of course, 
but you won’t listen to me or take the trouble to 
find out for yourself who the people are or what 
they do. I’m not the only one your neighbor talks 
about; she called you ‘Dynamite Meg’ the other 
day. I heard her- I really don’t care now what 
you hear or what you say. The limit of endur- 
ance was passed long ago. “I’ll do as I please 
from now on.” Thesmi, flushed and indignant, de- 
livered this capstone of retaliation with emphasis. 

“Woman’s a various and a changeful thing,” 


THE TWO HOUSES 33 

chimed Althoth from Virgil, half buried by the pile 
of books Thesmi was arranging for him. 

Though wholly in the realm of guess-work, Al- 
thoth's lines often brought merriment to Thesmi. 

''She's more than a Various thing’, Althoth ; 
she’s ” 

“O Jove,” he cried, “for what offence have I 

Deserved to bear this endless ” 

“Althoth !” Aunt Meg had stood back, non- 
plussed for once at the turn things had taken, but 
she regained her tongue, she valued his reading 
less than a pin, “you can’t have such a litter of 
books in here at a time. Remember ! Pouf ! pouf ! 
so dusty; a second hand book stall.” 

A superfine deference toward the weaker sex 
which precise Althoth always maintained. Aunt 
Meg appropriated wholly to herself ; hence he came 
less under her ban than anyone in the house, and 
this sudden jerk caused even the scholar’s broad 
but square shoulders to straighten, and a mild look 
of wonder to flicker over his face. 

But it is a question whether it mattered much, 
for it seemed as if his mere reading was enough 
to cover all defects in life. If ever he felt old, 
helpless, cast aside, no one was made aware of it. 

Thesmi was as good as her word. She was de- 
fiant now to the last degree. Down in the garish 
precincts of the beachcombers she was often seen. 
She helped the Women to sew as best she could. 
They made no demands upon her and never al- 
lowed her to accompany them in their rounds. But 
how much she saw and learned in these visits! 
Signa and Ernst worked together some time each 
day in a hole-in-the-wall sort of eating room in the 


34 


THE TWO HOUSES 


outer building. This was kept open night and day ; 
the latch string was always out. There was a lit- 
tle food of some kind always there for who needed 
it, and whoever came, night or day, must have 
fallen at once into the meaning for there never was 
disturbance. It might have been one of the old- 
time missions, where the weary traveler was cared 
for and sent on his way refreshed spiritually as 
well as physically. But on what a diminutive scale 
was the inn here ! And there must have been some 
goodness somewhere sprinkled over the slum for 
such marked quietness and order to obtain always 
around the Women’s small domain. 

They were not superlatively acute in their study 
of those around them — it was more a general con- 
ception of life at once spiritual and material. 
Never self-conscious, never arrogating to them- 
selves a lofty superiority, they wore no badge of 
charity givers. They had no gifts to give — but 
still they gave. So they had the heart and hand of 
nearly every one in the place- 

As Thesmi never knew what would cause a fes- 
tival of scolding, she grew reckless and the time 
spent at home grew less and less each day. 

She had spent file afternoon at the cabin and the 
long Northern gloaming was at last closing in as 
she took a short cut home. A little out of her way 
she heard a child crying and as there seemed no 
one near she approached, asking, 

“Have you lost your way? Where do you live?” 
The child made no answer but the tears continued 
to stream down his face. She took his hand and 
looked around a moment in hesitancy. There were 
several huts near but for the most part they looked 


THE TWO HOUSES 


35 


deserted and she started to walk briskly in the di- 
rection of some children at play, anxious to leave 
the boy in some one's care and to hasten home her- 
self. Suddenly a door of one of the seemingly de- 
serted sheds flew open and out rushed a woman, 
frowsy-headed and half-asleep. 

“So you’re the one, are you, that’s sent to steal 
me boy? You’re the one, are you? I’ve seen you 
down here many’s the time before prowling about,” 
at the same time snatching the boy away with one 
hand and making a vicious lunge at Thesmi’s face 
with the other. 

At the wholly unexpected assault Thesmi backed 
away and kept throwing out her hands to ward off 
the other who kept running up, prize-fighter fash- 
ion. Out Thesmi’s hands would go and up again 
would run the woman, until a push and a trip-up 
from the rough ground precipitated matters. 

“Me boy! me boy! She’s stealing me boy!” 
At the top of her voice the woman screamed and 
Thesmi turned to flee. 

In an incredible instant, as if the ground itself 
and not the shanties gave them up, men, women, 
and children swarmed. 

“That’s her ! I caught her in the act She 
knocked me down, she did, thinkin’ there was no- 
body near. Search her! She may have a knife.” 

“Search her ! Search her !” The crowd took the 
cue. There was not a conciliatory face there — ugly 
looks, upraised menacing fists and low threats on 
one hand and a frightened, if plucky, girl on the 
other. 

Like people of widely varying types, who are 
nevertheless bound by a common tie — the beach- 


36 


THE TWO HOUSES 


combers thought that the village belonged to them 
and must be kept free from the rest of the world. 

“I don’t think you belong here. Where do you 
want to go?” The young man at Thesmi’s elbow 
gave two or three of the slums a sweep back from 
a strong, if rather small arm, who were jostling too 
close. “Keep back,” he said, “or I’ll ” 

“The perleece!” some one cried, and an open 
space was at once made and the young man who 
had pushed through the crowd led the girl away. 

“She’s a rum one,” the Knight of the village in- 
formed Thesmi, between pauses of the girl’s half- 
hysterical account. “She’s after money. She’s at 
logger-heads with some man she’s been living with. 
She’s hiding the boy from him. She may have 
thought that you wanted to steal him.” And the 
young man laughed as if at the remembrance of 
some good comedy. 

But Thesmi’s face reflected tragedy. 

Just what color was given the scrimmage, and 
which was innocently enough brought about as far 
as she was concerned, Thesmi never knew. At 
any rate it was not long before Aunt Meg’s 
scandalized version was poured into the ears of the 
head of the House. Mark Gouled was punctilious 
with respect to his home, selfish to a degree in the 
keeping up of appearances, and brutal almost in his 
fury at the hinted disgrace of it by his daughter. 

A storm of remonstrance, protestation and tears 
broke when Thesmi and her father met at break- 
fast one morning. 

“They tell me,” he said sternly, “they tell me — 
This house has been deceived, I have been deceived. 
A House which is kept open principally to insure 


THE TWO HOUSES 37 

your success in society. You are nothing if you 
are not running to extremes.” 

Thesmi’s voice rose almost shrill. “There was 
no wrong done by me in the village. They wanted 
to make out ” 

“You’re the talk of the neighborhood. The 
woman and her boy were here. She ” 

Aunt Meg stopped short. Contrary to all cus- 
tom, Althoth, apparently shocked out of all diffi- 
dence, rose awkwardly, overturning his chair 
noisily as he did so, and took up a position behind 
Thesmi’s chair, one long arm thrown protectingly 
around her. “It’s your nagging,” he cried in a 
quivering, quavering voice, “that’s driving the girl 
away from her home. And you !” he turned on 
the bristling housekeeper a look of the deepest 
scorn, “you — ‘ever foremost in a tongue debate’, 
you keep the house in a ferment night and day.” 

There was a pitiful silence in the room as the 
door closed upon the bent shoulders and the old 
square cap of the scholar. 

Thesmi was glad of the interruption. She felt 
in no mood to touch lances with her relative just 
then. High as her motives always were, cool as 
her judgement often was, she could be sarcastic 
and disagreeable when pressed too far. But 
oftener than not she withdrew from the fray, her 
aunt’s sharp tongue usually proving very effective, 
and the scolder had the room to herself. But un- 
der the influence of the Women, she manifested 
more and more patience and forbearance in her 
daily life at home. It seemed though as if to reach 
the best that was in her — her spiritual apogee — she 
had to lean heavily on them. 


38 


THE TWO HOUSES 


Up to this time Thesmi had lived the life of a 
usual American girl. But since being aroused 
startlingly — and on the whole happily aroused — to 
keener spiritual consciousness, the world seemed 
against her. And now brought into this unwel- 
come prominence her sensitiveness increased, her 
thoughts constantly turned to finer things — and 
also more than ever to the Women — to the high 
altitude they must have reached to be able to per- 
ceive and minister to the permanent elements in a 
panorama as shifting and as various as the sea. 

Hostilities ceased for a time in the House owing 
to Thesmi’s discreet avoidance of the beach- 
combers. The alienated father showed signs of re- 
lenting. Althoth fell back peaceably to his books 
and a good listener could have picked out whole 
sermons in some of his short emphasized passages. 
Whenever Aunt Meg got within line of hearing her 
nose tilted, disdain was depicted on every feature. 

But Thesmi was ready to forgive at the first 
overture, a counter current of generosity always 
restoring her equilibrium. She could have been 
rated with the gods, of whom it is said that they 
are known by their great power of forgiveness, for 
it was utterly impossible for her to harbor a grudge 
for any length of time against any one. Meaner 
natures took advantage of her. A more discreet 
and calculating soul would have withheld much that 
she so impulsively and ingenuously set forth. All 
this counted against rather than for her. She had 
far more of the beautiful child in her than the 
knowing woman, and she lacked brute force almost 
entirely. 

The greatest charm of course of the Gouled 


THE TWO HOUSES 


39 


sitting room was its outlook, which brought in- 
vigoration of spirit to the dwellers who would but 
look out. But the room, neatness itself, formal 
even in that respect, always bore the impress of 
Thesmi’s lighter, finer touches — fern or flower or 
some quaint seat that broke the rigidity of merely 
four square walls. She exercised her taste by fre- 
quently rearranging the furniture or books or 
knickknacks so that the eye never wearied by 
sameness. 

Although Thesmi’s manner was naturally grave, 
giving few hints of a golden girlhood, yet she had 
the wholesomest kind of humor. Even when nettled 
beyond endurance by her aunt or grieved by her 
father’s neglect, she could laugh, a real spontaneous 
laugh — a child-laugh — a ripple of sunshine from a 
frowning sky. And oftener than not it was when 
she was alone that the sweet hilarity broke out; in 
the privacy of her own room some incongruity 
seen or heard during the day would assail her, and 
she would shake with the thought of it. She was 
wise enough, too, to thank the powers that be for 
the precious gift of healing laughter- And this 
evening, while looking over her music, of which 
she had a choice collection, she burst into merri- 
ment. Althoth at one end of the room and Aunt 
Meg at the other were each reading aloud, but 
from widely different models. 

‘‘Veal dropped to thirteen cents today,” read the 
housekeeper from the local market quotations. 

“Megeara,” the classic rang, “gloomy of visage, 
she sprouts forth with so many snakes;” 

“Oh, Aunt, veal and snakes! Shall you have 
them cooked together, a pot pourrif Thesmi’s 


40 


THE TWO HOUSES 


mirth was lost on her relative, who severely read 
on straight down the market column. 

Her father suddenly pocketed his note book and 
held up an index finger warningly. 

“See that you meet me without fail at my office 
tomorrow afternoon. Dress up. I want you to 
call on a lady with me- She is at the Denny. Her 
son was to have met her at Vancouver, but failed 
to do so, and she is here looking for him. Don’t 
fail to put in an appearance. You may see a good 
deal of her. Invite her to dinner.” 

“You may depend upon me, papa ; I shall be de- 
lighted to meet your friend.” Thesmi, pleased 
with the prospect of her father’s company on the 
morrow, forgot all her petty annoyances. Her 
father’s short session with the family in the eve- 
nings after dinner was a great pleasure to her. 
And his evident enjoyment of the room and hour 
gave the home its one true touch. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


41 


CHAPTER FOUR. 

A New Acquaintance For Thesmi. 

“Life is so various, and so beautifully 
diverse in its unity, that no hard and fast 
mathematical law-making can imprison its 
manifoldness.” 

It was rather late in the afternoon of the follow- 
ing day, when Mr. Gouled and his daughter called 
upon Mrs. Allingham at the Hotel Denny. 

This hotel, situated as it was a little apart from 
the business centre of the city, commanded a view 
from the verandas and terraces unequalled in the 
West — the sound, harbor, lakes, mountains and all 
Seattle. The eminence it crowned, familiarly 
known as “Denny Hill,’^ three hundred feet above 
sea level, was a vantage point for scenic beauty. 
East, west, north, south, it was the best known lo- 
cation to study and observe the country. 

The Indians were very superstitious about this 
knoll, claiming many things about it, among others, 
that it was an ancient burying ground; and their 
penchant for burying their dead on high places 
would bear this out. 

The west veranda, overlooking the bay, gave a 
view of the main channel of Puget Sound, the 
beautiful inland sea, extending more than two hun- 
dred miles into the very heart of western Washing- 
ton. In the foreground, vessels of every descrip- 
tion coursed to distant points, while scudding boats, 
tugs and all kind of homely craft plied between 


42 


THE TWO HOUSES 


local points. And far beyond Puget Sound rose 
the wonderful Olympic Mountains, always fascin- 
ating because so mysterious. 

Whether lying in a bath of tender haze, or 
jutting through the clouds, cold, blue, intense, the 
exalted heights suggesting the unattainable, the 
mountains are always things of weird beauty. 
There is never here the insistent appeal of the 
gentle monotony of flat surfaces, but always tower- 
ing crags and mystic shadows. 

And each day there is a new revealing of the 
mountains. 

At night the hotel, standing out in a blaze of 
light above the city, was a landmark for all ship- 
ping entering the harbor. 

Mrs. Allingham greeted her callers warmly. Her 
manner had little of the English reserve and much 
of the distinctive Southern spontaneity. Person- 
ally, Mr. Gouled was meeting his client for the 
first time. A transaction involving a small fortune 
made it expedient for her to meet her represent- 
atives. 

The timber of Washington is practically inex- 
haustible; the whole civilized world draws upon 
this section for its far-famed cedar and fir. At 
this time, timber lands offered especially good in- 
vestments. Mr. Gouled had options on large 
tracts, which were quietly secured in the interests 
of his English capitalists. 

Mrs. Allingham's son, an only child, and, since 
his father’s death, her partner in all business 
affairs, had preceded her across the Atlantic from 
London. 

His failure to meet her at Vancouver, British 


THE TWO HOUSES 


43 


Columbia, had brought her in haste to Seattle, 
whither she had been informed her son had gone. 
Her interests in British Columbia also were exten- 
sive, and she had planned upon a longer stay there 
before visiting Seattle. One would never guess, 
though, that she was uneasy about anything, she 
was so full of life, vim and ambition. 

“Although it is strange,” she said with a little 
frown, “that we should miss each other this way, 
— and I am, of course, a trifle anxious about 
Ralph, — I am quite confident that it is something 
unusual, something unavoidable, that keeps him 
from me. There is always something problematical 
about Ralph. He has such radical ideas and is so 
head-strong and impetuous — so precipitate in some 
ways — that he may have become entangled in some 
affair. But we have implicit confidence in each 
other’s movements. You know,” and she looked 
at Mr. Gouled for corroboration of her sentiment, 
“we must allow our children freedom if we expect 
them to attain their fullest growth. Freedom, of 
course,” she added, with a decided uplifting of her 
executive chin, “of the right sort — real freedom, 
freedom of mind as well as freedom of body.” 

Thesmi cast a swift glance at her father, then 
immediately became interested in the carpet pat- 
tern, outlining it with the toe of her shoe. 

“But I trust Ralph,” Mrs. Allingham resumed 
after a pause, her well-bred glance passing from 
father to daughter. “I always have trusted him, 
and always shall. Nothing on earth can take the 
place of patience and trust; oh, there is nothing!” 
Her dark eyes glowed with fine enthusiasm, and 
she looked at Thesmi searchingly. 


44 


THE TWO HOUSES 


She was one of those natural advanced students 
of human nature who can see the outcroppings of a 
grand nature in the little turns and expressions of 
face and form, in the physical formation — the pro- 
portions. 

Mrs. Allingham’s trained enunciation, added to a 
voice that had a fine tonal quality, made her speech 
particularly pleasing, a musical ring accompanying 
each word. Added to this, she could convey her 
meaning, every shade and effect she desired, to her 
listeners. Her long, level eyebrows denoted the 
ability to calculate a project from its faintest in- 
ception to its farthest consummation. A little 
above the average in height, she carried herself 
without making a bid for youth, or, for the matter 
of that, acknowledgement of its absence- Wholly 
attractive by reason of her refinement and strength, 
her fascination was such that one fell at once un- 
der her spell. It could be said of her as is some- 
times said of a picture — the originality was one of 
personal force and large treatment. 

“You must see our city, Mrs. Allingham,” Mr. 
Gouled said in a lull of the conversation. “You 
must not leave before you have seen the sights. 
Thesmi will show you around; she has nothing 
else to do. It will keep her out of mischief ; out of 
bad company for a time.” 

Thesmi colored deeply at his blunt words, and 
cast a hasty glance at their hostess, who hastened 
to reply to Mr. Gouled’s enconlium of the city. 

“Oh, your city is beautiful, what I have seen 
of it — beautiful beyond description!” exclaimed 
Mrs. Allingham, changing her seat to one near the 
window. “You have our English climate, certainly, 


THE TWO HOUSES 


45 


but you have more. Just look!” and she pointed 
to the western sky — blue, pale, and broken with all 
manner of glowing tints, reflected in the distant 
peaks. ‘T am a colorist at heart. I love color,” 
and her eyes swept the dark mounds — the foot- 
hills, — accenting the picture. 

“Well, you’ll get it here. I’m not much on that 
sort of stuff myself, but you can’t get away from 
it if you try. You’ve just got to take it.” Mark 
Gouled cast a mildly interested glance at the land- 
scape in courtesy to his client, nothing more. He 
had no time for beauty. He did not care to have 
the heart that could understand. 

“And this hotel, the site, — how magnificent!” 

“Yes, our hotel is commented upon by tourists 
generally.” Mr. Gouled was markedly pleased 
with his friend’s interest. 

“There must be legends connected with these 
mountains” Mrs. Allingham turned to Thesmi for 
answer. Before the answer came she continued, 
“And legends are tenacious of life. They must 
have some foundation and instructive lesson. To 
paraphrase Wordsworth, I believe that savages 
have 'glimpses that make them less forlorn’. And 
here, too, you have Mount Olympus, the abode of 
the gods. The mere name brings up lofty visions, 
memories of classics studied long ago. Oh, why 
can’t the gods be with us yet? Their laws are not 
changed. Let us get out of this evil time and be- 
lieve in the gods and their works, and refuse to be 
the servants of outer things. I believe. I trust.'' 

“Oh, yes,” said Thesmi eagerly, “there are all 
sorts of legends connected with the mountains. 
There is one about an evil genius, Seatco, a terrible 


46 


THE TWO HOUSES 


spirit; and there is a legend of a Happy Valley, 

where Thesmi stopped. Her father looked 

bored. He abominated legends. Anyone inter- 
ested in them was a find to her. “I will tell you 
many of the stories later — if you care to hear,” and 
she looked at Mrs. Allingham sweetly. 

“Care to hear? You lovely girl! I love any one 
who loves legends, and I love you ; but I did at first 
sight.” Mrs. Allingham looked as if she intimately 
comprehended matters. 

“That’s one of her fads, Mrs. Allingham. But 
don’t be carried away by Thesmi. She runs after 
every dirty Siwash she sees on the street, to say, 
‘Kla-how-ya,’ how-do-you-do,” and Mr. Gouled 
rose to take leave. 

“Oh, papa! how could you say that?” Thesmi 
was surprised at her father’s unusual lightness of 
manner. He rarely was so jovial. 

Mrs. Allingham laughed in gaiety at the idea of 
this richly dressed girl running after dirty Indians 
on the public streets. 

“As for the mountains,” Mr. Gouled said, busi- 
ness-like, “I wish we could mine them for gold; 
break them up into suitable working piles.” 

Suddenly Mrs. Allingham’s manner grew seri- 
ous. “Your city, though, Mr. Gouled, — is it not 
rather wild — lawless yet? I was reading an ac- 
count,” and she pointed to a daily newspaper lying 
on the table, “of a young man, a countryman of 
mine, too, being horribly abused on the water front, 
without cause. And evidently the ruffians were 
allowed to do as they pleased. At all events, there 
was no aid forthcoming and the man had to run for 
his life. The thought rushed over me. What if 


THE TWO HOUSES 47 

that had been Ralph?” and Mrs. Allingham shud- 
dered. 

The incident which so shocked the English- 
woman was one arising from the feeling which still 
ran high in Seattle and Tacoma against Chinese 
labor. The Chinese agitation had begun early in 
the territory. But even at this time, opposition was 
still strong in the city and needless cruel acts were 
of daily occurrence. Even the small boy, incited 
by his elder’s example, threw stones and otherwise 
ill-treated with impunity any unoffending China- 
man on the streets. The Celestial was regarded as 
legitimate quarry to be run down, a decidedly good 
game of sport, by old or young. 

In this case, it was the generous interference of 
a young Englishman that precipitated the trouble. 
There is nothing which sooner raises an English- 
man’s indignation than a real or fancied act of in- 
justice. A Chinese cook coming down the gang- 
plank of a steamer just arrived at the water front, 
was the subject of attack by a crowd of stevedores 
hanging around the dock. The bully of the mob 
deliberately stepped in front of the unsuspecting 
Chinaman and tripped him up. Upon regaining his 
feet, the assailed man struck out wildly, sending 
one of his tormentors sprawling on the planks. 
Infuriated, the rest of the hoodlums closed in 
threateningly on the alien. The Englishman, his 
insular appearance betraying him to the crowd, 
stepped in with friendly interference from the far 
end of the dock. He had been watching the 
steamer unload and hastened to the rescue. Re- 
senting his interference, the stevedores turned 
upon him like a pack of wolves, all their malice 


48 


THE TWO HOUSES 


transferred in an instant. They handled him 
roughly. He showed his Oxford training, and 
more than one of the surprised cowards kept out 
of reach of his sinewy right arm. He was swing- 
ing right and left, when a hoarse cry rose, a single 
one at first, but immediately taken up until the yell 
burst out, 

“Put a rope around his neck! Pitch him into 
the bay r 

Realizing his danger, that the odds were against 
him, with a dash the stranger broke from the en- 
circling mob and ran along the water front, the 
crowd at his heel. He struck into a railroad track 
built upon a trestle that ran along the beach, about 
a hundred and fifty feet from the shore. Blood 
was seen to be streaming from a cut over the eye. 
His pace slackened. He had distanced his pur- 
suers at first, only one or two of whom could fol- 
low at a time on the trestle. A profane brute was 
close upon him, when he suddenly disappeared. 
Fearing the authorities, the stevedores got out of 
sight, and the supposition was that the man was 
drowned. 

* sK * * * 

“Cleverest woman I ever met! Such business 
acumen!” pronounced Mr. Gouled on the way 
home. He was much pleased with his English 
client. 

“She’s beautiful,” murmured Thesmi. “I have 
never met anyone like her before. And she loves 
legends,” and she looked back with regret at the 
hotel. “No one would ever believe that she was a 
business woman, she is so ” 

“Show her every courtesy while she is in the city, 


THE TWO HOUSES 


49 


Thesmi,” broke in her father. “Invite her to din- 
ner. Keep in close touch with her. She doesn’t 
appear to be greatly worried over her son’s non- 
appearance. I wonder if he is wild. Many of 
these pampered English sons are.” 

“She was lovely to me,” inserted Thesmi, looking 
interestedly happy. 

“I see no reason why she shouldn’t be,” retorted 
her father, with the first ring of pride or interest 
heard for a long time, as he took a side look at his 
daughter. 

While not having exactly beauty to boast of, 
Thesmi was a vision of youth and health. The 
humid Sound climate, temperate, and with no 
harsh winds to speak of, is remarkably conductive 
to beautiful complexions and silky hair, and both 
were here in a more than usual degree. Her eyes, 
deep-set and mysterious, were lustrous with a still, 
pure happiness. Her father’s company, a rarity 
alone, was a great enjoyment,- for her love for her 
father, and pride in him, were very great. And this 
light-hearted amelioration of his taciturnity drew 
her closer to him than anything had done for a 
long time. 

He had almost disqualified himself for recreation 
by the necessary hardness and absorption of trade. 

“Oh, papa, I shall take Mrs. Allingham out on 
the Sound. The salmon run is on now and the 
fishing is lovely. Do you suppose she would care 
to go?” Thesmi was already planning a campaign 
of pleasure for her new acquaintance. 

“I don’t know anything about that. You women 
usually find out all about each other soon enough — 
or pretend that you do, which is the same thing. I 


50 


THE TWO HOUSES 


shouldn’t wonder, though, but that she would. 
English women — some of them — I understand, are 
fond of out-door sports. At any rate, see that you 
keep to the fore and take care of her. It may mean 
a larger amount of capital than anything I have 
handled yet. There is no limit to the possibilities 
in this part of the world with capital at command. 
What with mines and ” 

“Mines, papa ? I thought it was timber land you 
were specially interested in. Isn’t that what the 
Allinghams are investing in?” 

“Attend strictly to what I said about entertaining 
the English woman and never mind what I am 
specially interested in.” Mark Gouled’s geniality 
was rapidly merging into his customary curtness as 
they neared home. 

Thesmi took the reproof in dignified silence, but 
soon asked, “Didn’t she say her son’s name was 
Ralph?” without waiting for an answer, she kept 
repeating, “Ralph Allingham, — Ralph Allingham. 
How strange that the name should sound familiar 
to me! Where could I have seen or heard it?” 

“In your dreams, likely,” rejoined her father 
flippantly, as they ascended the steps to their home. 

It was this constant lopping off, as it were, of 
confidence, affection and understanding, and trust, 
that was spoiling Thesmi — if she could be spoiled. 
There was always a certain amount of reserve in 
her manner, a holding back, a half-revealing only 
of what lay close to her heart. She had never been 
known, even as a child, to ask directly for a dainty 
or coveted toy, always this indirect appeal. And 
she seldom made friends of young people, pre- 
ferring her elders. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


51 


The living room of the Gouled home was not un- 
cosy, in spite of the modern expensive furnishings 
that bespoke much wealth — if not altogether taste. 
There were many treasures of artistic value scat- 
tered around and Althoth’s collection of books 
would have enriched a barn. 

That evening, all through the scholar’s reading, 
the name kept humming in Thesmi’s ears, keeping 
time to it as it were. And as if the association had 
power to make itself known, something drew her 
to seek out the home seen from the window — of 
Signa and Ishna in the beachcomber village, lying 
in the white moonlight, etherealizing the scene. 
And in a flash, the name, a coat, a card rose up 
before her. “Ralph Allingham”. That was the 
name engraved on a card she had picked up from 
the floor the last time she had been in the cabin. 

Signa was repairing the coat, a coat of fine 
quality and fashionable cut; it looked as if it had 
received rough usage. In handling the coat a card 
dropped from the inside pocket and fluttered, un- 
noticed close to where Thesmi sat. She reached 
over and picking it up, handed it back, but not be- 
fore she had read the name Ralph Allingham en- 
graved on it. 

“Thank you,” Signa had smiled, and replacing 
the card, she took a few basting stitches across the 
pocket opening to safeguard against farther loss. 
At that time, Thesmi had asked herself. Whose 
was the coat? Not Ernst’s, for he wore no such 
clothing; and though he was not coarse by any 
means he was yet apparently a servant of some 
kind. Conforming to an unwritten law, Thesmi 
asked no questions. 


52 


THE TWO HOUSES 


After her first little gasp of astonishment, Thes- 
mi turned from the window and sought her father, 
to acquaint him with her discovery. But he had 
left the house, and she knew that in all probability 
it would be too late to act in the matter when he 
returned. And upon second thought, she decided 
to keep silence, the mere mention of the village 
always drawing down a tirade of reproach. 

There were no mysterious tendencies whatever 
in Thesmi’s nature; she was deeply, simply spirit- 
ual, and was unaware of the attainment. The 
Real, which crops out everywhere in the Unreal, 
was what she was constantly seeking, but finding 
it not, and often deceived. But she had a will to 
find and to live a life of her own. And her very 
sturdiness, this keeping to herself, unconsciously 
trusting and following her intuitions, was keeping 
her from sinking into a mere thing of the hour. 

Before retiring, Thesmi sought the attic to prac- 
tice a new melody that haunted her all day. She 
was peculiar also in this, that, though a dozen dif- 
ferent lines of thought might be running in her 
mind at a time, she invariably worked them out, 
and with less confusion and lack of system than 
one would expect from her years. 

She had been driven to this corner of the garret, 
her Den, she called it, by the constant nagging of 
her aunt, who harped all day long upon the dis- 
agreeableness of the violin playing. 

“You can’t be like anyone else.” Her aunt had a 
voice like a crow’s, and stood in the door of Thes- 
mi’s room one day with the manner of a scrub- 
woman with soap and pail. “What you want with 
an old fiddle stuck up against your cheek night and 


THE TWO HOUSES 


53 


day for, no one knows.” She had the vixen’s 
habit of starting a new variety of scolds at any 
time on a second’s notice. “That horrid rasping 
and scratching can be heard all over the house.” 

“Papa doesn’t object to it; Althoth never knows 
whether I’m playing or not ; and you are never long 
enough in one place to hear anything except back- 
door gossip,” Thesmi retorted hotly, scraping the 
bow across the strings until Aunt Meg viciously 
stuck her fingers in her ears and flounced across 
the hall, bumping hard into the stooping Sophy, 
dusting the balustrade. 

“No, Miss Thesmi, ‘you can’t be like anyone 
else’; she never said a truer or better thing than 
that about you, though she didn’t mean it that 
way.” Sophy was a live woman, full of tenderness 
and big emotions. She always yearned to pet and 
comfort the girl after hearing a clash. And her 
sympathy was generally an introduction to a 
dream, a story or some other enlightenment, for 
she had her own Revelation. 

“If you knew about the music I hear, you’d 
wonder. Callimachus says it’s the rhythm, the tone 
of the universe. One night I heard all things that 
are singing it — chanting. And the sweetness of it ! 
The sadness of it! The greatness of it! It was 
too much for me. I wept.” 

A carpenter was commissioned, and the Den 
when completed proved a very haven of inspiration 
and peace. Never was Thesmi nearer heaven than 
when she was there. In this place she lived a life 
of semi-detachment; all her spare time was spent 
there, with her violin and books as entertainers. 
The Den was patterned after an Indian Wigwam. 


54 


THE TWO HOUSES 


The interior decorations, consisting of a collection 
of baskets, bows and arrows, carved and painted 
canoes, would have delighted a collector of Indian 
curios. Wild red berries, strung and festooned on 
the walls, accented with their brightness the dun- 
colored furs and mats plentifully bestowed around. 
And Thesmi, with unerring taste, knew the exact 
place to group the colors and make the grayed 
tints wonderfully restful and dignified. Flowers 
in season always decorated the room. A wide 
dormer window, cooled and green-screened in sum- 
mer by the leaves of a prolific Virginia creeper, 
gave a marine view of ever-changing delight. 

But tonight Thesmi could not enjoy her practice. 
Even her Den failed to bring restfulness. Laying 
her beloved instrument aside, and pushing back a 
tall opaline vase containing some crimson flox, 
which otherwise too brightened the subdued 
scheme of the Den, she sought her room, deter- 
mined to seek the Two Women on the morrow. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


55 


CHAPTER FIVE. 

Lost In The Mist. 

“Great spirits now are sojourning on earth.” 

Next morning Thesmi, her mind filled with 
thoughts of coats, cards, new friends and the 
Women on the beach, left the house determined to 
find out the mystery — if mystery there was. 

Early as it was. Aunt Meg, her face heavy with 
warning, was over-seeing the sweeping of the front 
porch and steps, the corners and angles of which 
she was prying into with a sharp stick. Particles 
of dirt and vituperatives flew out at the same time, 
a neighbor across the street catching every word. 

In mere decency Thesmi turned a thankful cor- 
ner out of hearing of her robustious aunt. 

“She’ll be so busy. Miss Thesmi, for the next 
two hours rating the help, she won’t miss you. But 
don’t delay. She’s a good woman of her tongue 
but so am I. I’ll worry her in some way so that 
she’ll keep busy.” Sophy had been taken into 
Thesmi’s confidence. Peace had reigned and had 
been a benediction in the house and the surrepti- 
tious visit was merely to cater to that peace. “I’ll 
be working near Althoth while you’re away. He’s 
a mine of pure gold, Callie says. I’ve to re- 
peat every word I remember.” Sophy’s atmos- 
phere was soothing and Thesmi benefited by it. 

Every day has its beauty. The sky was swept 
with mere hints of coloring, a tender sky, with 


56 


THE TWO HOUSES 


much half -revealing, much hinting, like some 
human lives never opened fully, and carrying away 
with them into the unknown precious unfinished 
dramas and epics. Only the spirit of the day, 
though, touched Thesmi, for she did not observe 
as was her quick wont. But she left all chagrin 
behind as she turned in at the tranquil door, which 
was becoming more interesting at every visit. 

These visits always awoke in her a real child- 
like faith in the Women's infallibility and a strong 
desire to emulate them. 

The light on the altar burned as usual, glowing 
softly like a precious ruby in a homely setting, but 
no celebrant stood before it. 

What witchery was there in this strange concep- 
tion of a home? It was not the witchery of 
dreams, certainly, for the Women, their colors 
true and insisted upon, made helpfulness the 
motive of their lives. Hands, voices, demeanor 
spoke of it. Perhaps the unusual accessories — the 
incense and the altar and other things — were mere 
aids, the spiritual and the material going hand in 
hand in their appointed way of practicability. Nor 
did they dwell for years in the seclusion of a 
forest to find spiritual freedom; they seemed free 
to throw off all restraint, and begin to work and to 
help whenever and wherever they found people to 
work for and be helped. It was not the symbol, 
but the symbolized, they followed. Every act, 
every moment seemed to be meted out with pious 
care, as if they should be bound to give an account 
immediately. Yet something finer seemed to sup- 
plement the work of the body. As if they had 
points of contact with the whole world, they flashed 


THE TWO HOUSES 57 

their help far and near. Perhaps, as understood 
by them, this was the way to perfection. 

Thesmi, her eyes wide with curiosity and inter- 
est, turned from one Woman to the other, and in 
her Mars’ manner — Mars, always ready to split the 
difference and move on — plunged at once into the 
matter, or rather the middle of the matter. 

“The last time I was here — the coat, the card, the 

name — his mother ” She had hastened in her 

walk, partly through nervousness and partly 
through impatience, and now stopped breathless. 

“Sit down. Little One,” Signa gently placed her 
in a seat and at once resumed her sewing at the side 
of Ishna. The garment they were shaping was 
long and made from white cloth of very coarse 
texture. 

For an instant Signa and Ishna looked up into 
Thesmi’s face uncomprehendingly. Then they 
glanced at each other and a signal of understanding 
passed between them. 

Never discursive, they worked their way deli- 
cately into the girl’s story, into every detail, by 
means of casual interrogations, plying their needles 
all the while. They had much of the fine French 
manner, never shocking with direct questioning or 
abrupt disclosures. 

In turn, Thesmi was told all that the Women 
knew. 

The man in the newspaper article was Ralph Al- 
lingham. In his encounter with the stevedores, the 
Englishman had lost considerable blood from the 
cut on his forehead. Becoming desperately weak, 
he saw a chance of escape from his pursurers and 
dived from the trestle, coming up under a fisher- 


58 


THE TWO HOUSES 


man’s float, used for repairing nets and anchored 
near the shore. He clung to the cedar logs upon 
which the float was built until the mob turned back. 

He was fast losing hold, when Ernst, the 
Women’s helper, brought him in in a boat, taking 
him to his own quarters, where the Women minis- 
tered to him. 

“We prevailed upon him to rest with us until his 
wound healed. We make our own remedies,” and 
Signa opened a small corner cupboard, disclosing 
neatly rolled bandages, bundles of old clean linen, 
bottles and mixtures, various simples and herbs 
which gave out reminiscent odors. 

“Then he is here,” and Thesmi, speaking in a 
low voice, glanced apprehensively around. At the 
thought of the young man’s proximity her face 
flamed. 

“No, Little One, he returned to Vancouver. 
That is all we know.” 

“But he promised to return to us at some time,” 
Ishna added. “We tried to help him. He under- 
stood. The smallest touch in life has far-reaching 
effect.” Her manner was as impressive as if the 
stranger within their gates had received the Euchar- 
istic Bread, the Temple Meats. 

How satisfied the Women appeared to be with 
their activity, working away at that which lay be- 
fore them, as if they were entrusted with a divine 
part in the universe and must keep it inviolate! 
Their life, seemingly lost in the squalid settlement, 
held a place in a most fruitful sphere of action. 

“What a paradise on earth life would be were 
there more helpers like you!” Thesmi, her mind 
free from tension, looked at them both with glow- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


59 


ing eyes. She touched the work being done, and 
asked, “What is that you are both working on?” 
and she shivered ever so slightly, as if she felt the 
chill as of cold air from it, as one feels the wind 
made tremulous from a passing body. 

“You have caught the wave,” Ishna said in a 
low voice, “it has passed to you.” 

“I had such a creepy feeling, a kind of dread.” 

“Oh, no. Little One, not dread ! Say strangeness, 
perhaps, or awe, but not dread.” How assuringly 
she spoke! “This is a covering, a white garment. 
The waves brought home a body for burial last 
night. We begged leave of the coroner to clothe 
it in this. They were putting it in the rough box 
as it was. Clothed in white raiment, we believe 
those troublesome existences — reflections from the 
earthly life — will keep away and allow the soul freer 
passage, greater security. And we wept over the 
wave-beaten one, even as his mother would have 
wept were she here. Sorrow can baptise the dead ; 
souls can be made stronger with tears and sighs; 
they are advanced thereby.” Ishna, as if her soul 
was constantly being lifted on high, repressed the 
involuntary throwing up of her hands and kept 
them to work. Veneration and adoration held her 
continually. 

This indefinable air as if of things impalpable 
joined to the common sense of things in Ishna 
was an unusual combination. Signa turned to look 
at her, and, watching the light on her face, forgot 
her needle. “Ishna gets the highest truths in some 
way we know not of,” she said, looking gravely at 
Thesmi. “Her little rites are her own. We do not 


60 THE TWO HOUSES 

question her. Every one has their own Altar of 
Bethel.’^ 

Sympathy deep as theirs led these two Women 
straight to those in need of succor — succor of body 
or soul. 

“But the dead are often buried in colored clothes, 
Ishna.” Thesmi knew that nothing here was with- 
out meaning, and her curiosity was aroused. “But 
how well I remember,” she went on before an an- 
swer came, “an Irish cook we had when I was a 
little girl, and the songs she used to sing to me. 
One of the ditties ran this way: 

“ ‘What shall we dress her in, dress her In, 
dress her in, 

‘What shall we dress her in, fit for the grave?’ 

“Red would be given by the singer as the color, 
and then she would begin again, 

“ ‘Red is for soldiers, soldiers, soldiers, 

‘Red is for soldiers, and that will not do.’ 

“Blue would be given next, and again ran the 
ditty, 

“ ‘Blue is for sailors, sailors, sailors, 

‘Blue is for sailors, and that will not do.’ 

“Lastly, white was given, then, 

“ ‘White is for dead people, dead people, dead 
people, 

‘White is for dead people, and that will just do.’ 

“I really don’t know why that should stay in my 
memory as it does, but it came up to me as if I 
heard it yesterday when you spoke that way about 
the dead wearing white garments.” 


THE TWO HOUSES 


61 


*‘We are little children, Little One, playing and 
singing all the time common lines about death and 
life. It is well that the jingle remained in your 
memory. Often these old sayings and songs hold 
strange truth.” 

Signa nodded in affirmation of Ishna’s words, 
then they both plied their needles faster and faster, 
while Thesmi, overcoming her repulsion, threaded 
needles and folded hems. 

They might have been the three Fates, Clotho, 
Lachesis, and Atropes, spinning the thread of des- 
tiny ; shearing, not the thread of life, but a pauper’s 
shroud. 

‘‘Your whole desire,” Thesmi said earnestly to 
the Women, “is to add to the peace and the happi- 
ness of those around you. The world should be 
filled with none but persons like you.” 

Thesmi hastened her return, uplifted as she al- 
ways was in a superlative degree by the lovable 
home, in such sharp contrast to her own; its odd 
furniture, grayed by the sea, the little altar, every- 
thing in the place, a good not to be too much 
dreamed about. 

The wind had risen since her visit. There were 
motion and life on the beach. Swirling waves 
driven before the western blasts were tossing the 
flotsam and jetsam of the sea at the doors of some 
of the huts. Enormous masses of dark clouds pos- 
sessed the western horizon. 

In one hut a tired woman was vaguely watching 
the waves from a small window, on the sill of which 
a red geranium in a tin can gave a spot of beauty 
to the unpromising habitation. 

A big-eyed youngster, clothed in carelessness, 


62 


THE TWO HOUSES 


and hugging a toy boat, peered out at Thesmi from 
a more sheltered doorway, while his mother, aban- 
doning the brown net and litter of twine, stood in 
the door to see her pass. 

And ever before them lay the waters, troubled 
and grey, or calm and smiling. 

Meeting the exigencies of life with a natural 
nobility of soul, the poor accept instinctively much 
as belonging to the natural order of things. 

When Thesmi reached home she found a note 
awaiting her from her father, informing her that 
he had just made a business call on Mrs. Allingham. 
She had heard from her son. A delayed letter led 
him to believe that his mother would not be in Van- 
couver for some time. In the interim he made a 
flying visit to Seattle, intending to look into busi- 
ness affairs there. He met with an accident, and 
upon recovery, hastened back to Vancouver to meet 
his mother without calling on Mr. Gouled. Mrs. 
Allingham had written to her son that she would 
finish her business in Seattle before leaving, and 
join him later. Thesmi was again enjoined in the 
note, as her father would be absent for a day or 
two on business, to see to the entertainment of his 
client, and she was further informed that Mrs. 
Allingham was delighted with the idea of spending 
a day on the Sound. 

“Your aunt had a row with the milkman. Miss 
Thesmi, and never once mentioned you. It was a 
terrible row ! But I had a quiet day for a wonder. 
Althoth read some beautiful lines.” Sophy was 
giving a hasty summary of things. “I’m taking this 
one home to Callie,” and she quoted softly. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


63 


“Th' immortal hunger lasts, th’ immortal food 
remains.” 

“He read about the Harpies, too. But the Har- 
pies are not all dead. Isn’t that a good name for 

her? Not long ago I had a dream ” Sophy 

always stood as it were with one foot on the floor 
and the other in space. A step in the hall warned 
her. She disappeared silently. 

“My dear Miss Gou — no, Thesmi; — I may call 
you that, mayn’t I ? — how delighted I am to see 
you again !” and Mrs. Allingham led Thesmi charm- 
ingly to a seat, drawing another close up and seat- 
ing herself. To the motherless girl the warmth, 
the heartfelt interest were intoxicating, 

“Papa tells me you have heard from your son. 
How glad I am for you!” Thesmi’s speech was 
often stilted, not from emptyness, rather from over 
fulness. She had to be drawn out slowly, as liquid 
from a very full bottle will not run freely unless 
tilted at a certain angle. 

“Yes, my dear girl; and do you know that I 
rather think that he had some kind of an adventure. 
He calls it an accident. I am very curious about it. 
He mentions having been ministered to by some 
strange people. I shall have to wait, however, he 
writes me, until we see each other to hear all. 
Ralph is anything but fatalistic in belief, yet he 
writes that it looked as if his meeting with these 
Women — two elderly Women, was ordained, and 
that he will not soon forget what he heard and saw 
while being cared for. How altogether curious! 
But I promise you, my dear girl, that you shall have 
the whole story by letter as soon as I return.” 


64 


THE TWO HOUSES 


Thesmi was silent. She looked embarrassed, as 
if for the first time a full realization of what it 
meant — ^the rigidity of conventionalism and the 
Bohemianism of her own tastes ; her dislike for the 
formalities of fashionable life; her desire to make 
something of her life, rose before her. And the 
free-masonry between her and the Women on the 
beach ; How would that be regarded by the Ailing- 
hams? She heaved a sigh as if thankful that she 
did not have to tell what she knew. 

‘T want Ralph to become interested in this lum- 
ber business. We may eventually settle in this 
country. Ralph is already most favorably im- 
pressed. His last letter to me before I sailed was 
full of expressions complimentary to the people 
he had met; they were, he wrote, so dififerent from 
what he had been led to expect. And,” she added, 
“I entirely agree with him.” Thesmi envied Mrs. 
Allingham her charm of manner. 

Every available boat was in requisition at the 
time of the “salmon run.” The whole Sound was 
dotted with fishing boats — a regular fleet. Men 
and women with hook and line and fishermen with 
nets filled their boats with Chinook salmon, some 
of them weighing twenty pounds. At that early 
day, few, if any, traps intercepted the “run”, which 
every four years is a spectacle not to be forgotten. 
The water fairly boiled around the boats. Ripples 
of laughter, badinage and cries filled the air. Mrs. 
Allingham threw conventionalism to the winds and 
entered heartily into the sport. An unusual large 
catch brought out urgent appeals from her for 
Thesmi’s assistance. 

Thesmi’s eyes sparkled with pleasure and enjoy- 


THE TWO HOUSES 65 

merit over her new friend’s enthusiasm and amaze- 
ment. 

“This is a pretty good fishing pond, isn’t it?” 
she queried gaily, dexterously handling the line. 
“Of course I don’t know your England, but we 
think ours is a country to be proud off.” 

“What myriads ! What an almost impenetrable 
mass ! What a mighty mass of life sweeping on !” 
Mrs. Allingham was unable to take her eyes from 
the spectacle. “And they come all the way from 
the sea right to your door.” 

“It isn’t any wonder, is it,” Thesmi said to her 
companion in a lull of the sport, “that the Indians 
here venerate the salmon? Old Cloywatka was 
offering a toy canoe for sale on the streets not long 
ago, and I asked him the meaning of the ochre 
and black daub decorating the prow — a horribly 
grotesque thing, a sort of Chinese dragon. ‘Salmon 
Ty — ee’, he answered earnestly, meaning the god 
or the spirit of the salmon. And in an instant he 
was carried away with some kind of spiritual 
ecstacy, and right there in the street, raised his 
sunken eyes, glowing with sacred fire, to heaven, 
holding his palms up as if beseeching a blessing 
from the Great Spirit. I haven’t been able to 
forget it.” 

“What a letter I shall have to write to my 
friends !” Mrs. Allingham cried. “How shall I put 
it all on paper? What a scene! And what fish! 
Why, you are so rich in everything here, you really 
don’t fully realize what you have got, but simply 
take it as if it all were the usual lot. But I can tell 
you that it is not. Just think what this would 
mean to the world’s starving hordes! And you 


66 


THE TWO HOUSES 


simply give or throw away all this catch. I had 
no idea of a country like this. And you have had 
all this from childhood. Lucky girl !” Mrs. Ailing- 
ham looked at Thesmi’s sparkling face with open 
admiration. Accustomed as she was to the English 
type of beauty, she saw an animation in her new 
friend — a crispness, a terseness not always found at 
home. 

Becoming more and more interested in the throw- 
ing of the line, Thesmi failed to notice the heavy 
fog beginning to settle upon the waters. She was 
well versed in the weather phenomena — that is, as 
well versed as any one can be, for all signs fail 
when it comes to weather predictions in the Sound 
country; a rainbow at night may mean anything 
rather than the “shepherds’ delight.” The gay 
scene was gone. The voices on the waters were 
silent. They evidently were out at sea. The young 
man whose boat they hired rowed lustily in the 
supposed direction of the city. But soon a thick 
grey blanket folded around them and there was 
nothing left for them to do but to take turns in 
shouting, hoping thereby to attract attention. 

The little party had almost given up hope, when 
an answering shout came from a distance. Nearer 
and nearer, guided by the voice, the boat slipped 
through the mist and grounded on the beach. They 
were on the south end of Bainbridge Island, and 
the answer to their calls came from a camp of 
Indian clam-diggers. 

The Indians welcomed the belated arrivals ir> 
their hearty fashion and opened a way for them 
around a cheerful beach fire, offering them baked 
clams on cedar-bark chips. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


67 


The Indians, among whom were two or three 
klootchmen, knew Thesmi well. She could speak 
the Chinook jargon and therefore had the entree 
to their hearts and confidence. They had great 
love for her because of her uniform kindness and 
thoughtfulness toward them. Especially did she 
provide for the older women, many of whom had 
even refined faces. Warm clothing and shoes were 
given to them when they came to the big house 
offering their wares for sale. Often too in years 
past, winter supplies of dried camas root and other 
Indian dainties were stored in one end of the 
Gouled garret. In turn, many a curious piece of 
savagery and its history, as well as other hitherto 
untold legends came Thesmi’s way, for nothing 
was thought too good for her. 

“A real Indian camp, Thesmi, my dear! Who 
would ever think of my being seated here away 
in the far West with a lot of Indians? Oh, I shall 
never be able to write all this.” Mrs. Allingham, 
wrapped in her heavy English coat, her arm around 
Thesmi’s waist, looked the personification of en- 
joyment, not a hint of the predicament of being 
lost seeming to trouble her. 

One of the Indians could speak fairly good 
English. 

“He accompanied the United States botany party 
into the Olympic Mountains,” Thesmi informed 
Mrs. Allingham. “He is a splendid guide. Some 
day I hope to get up a party and have him lead us. 
He has told me such wonderful things about the 
mountains and other places that I shall never rest 
satisfied until I try a little exploring on my own 
account. There is one story that he told me about 


68 


THE TWO HOUSES 


gold being found at the foot of a waterfall, Fve 
almost forgotten it now ; such a weird description 
as he gave of the place, I never hear or see running 
water but I think of it — I never forgot that part. 
Likely enough though that he never will tell me any 
more about it. They are so superstitious — and sus- 
picious too, lately.” 

“He is the very man Ralph has been longing 
for,” Mrs. Allingham rejoined, “an Indian guide 
who can speak English. Can’t we learn now while 
we are here where he can be found? I shall will- 
ingly engage him now if you think best.” Thesmi 
soon made arrangements that were satisfactory and 
binding with Kaeokuke, and a small sum was given 
to close the bargain. 

“The fog has lifted. The moon is rising; we can 
see our way.” It was the young man who spoke. 
He seemed anxious to go. He was a strong rower 
and it was a calm night; so they bade their savage 
entertainers goodbye and pulled for Seattle, a good 
fourteen miles away, a three hours’ row. 

It was a rare night even for this land of inde- 
scribable effects and phenomena of color. The 
moonlight, mellow and dominating, flooded the 
whole Sound. Yet there was something of the lumin- 
osity of early twilight, though it was far into the 
night. The stars, too, shone from a dark greenish 
blue sky, a most typical effect of the Sound country, 
giving them a strange witchery, as if they were not 
entirely in their own sphere. 

On the way home, Thesmi gave Mrs. Allingham 
a short history of that part of the Sound. 

“Across from the northern end of the Island,” 
she told her, “is Chief Seattle’s burial place and 


THE TWO HOUSES 


69 


monument. Just think, it is not so many years ago 
that that famous chieftain ruled the tribes and held 
sway over all this land. There is only one post 
left of a great tribal home, near Port Madison. 
Those who know say that it was nearly a quarter 
of a mile long, stretching away along the beach, like 
a veritable Picus palace. Chief Seattle was the con- 
stant friend of the white man, when the Indian 
wars made it dangerous for the pioneers. He was 
very dignified looking and spoke with great gravity 
and eloquence. But all his speeches had to be in- 
terpreted; he never learned to speak the jargon; he 
was above that. You must read one of his 
speeches ; I have it ; I never tire of reading it.” 

‘T am looking forward to hearing and seeing all 
this that you are setting before me. Don’t think 
for a moment that any of it shall escape me. Even 
if I should return to England soon you will be 
called upon to write it all out for me. We must 
correspond. But, oh, see ! the lights of the city, the 
beautiful lights.” 


70 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER 6. 

The Musician of the Slums. 

music which calls the past out of its 

grave, and the future out of its cradle.” 

It was as clear as day when Mrs. Allingham and 
Thesmi stepped from the boat, which landed at the 
north end of the poor quarter. They were met by 
a boatman who informed them that they were to 
remain where they were until Mr. Gouled arrived. 
A whole army of boats had been out since the mist 
cleared away, scouring the nearby shores of West 
Seattle and Alki Point. Mr. Gouled had been down 
at the water front nearly all evening. He had gone 
up to the house, leaving word that he was to be 
notified if any news of the lost party was received. 

Mrs. Allingham and Thesmi sauntered up 
and down the hilly, unplanked road waiting 
for him. Suddenly there floated out from some- 
where in the neighboorhood, soft, bewitching strains 
from a violin. 

The bdatman who had sent ofif word to Mr. 
Gouled, now rejoined the women. He nodded in 
answer to their look of enquiry. 

“It’s Zacho, the Dane. He starves half of the 
time, but he can play.” 

“Starved!” Mrs. Allingham began, but at that 
instant the player flung upon the night, as if he 
could change the tone quality of his instrument at 
will strain after strain that seemed to touch every 


THE TWO HOUSES 


71 


emotion, from the saddest to the gayest. There 
was an instant’s pause; then the invisible musician, 
as if he had selected his theme, and with what 
seemed like feverish haste, struck an untellably 
sweet, wild air, suggesting longings, secret long- 
ings — not for the joys of music alone, but for some 
vivifying joy, freedom, freshness, all that must 
attend emancipation from sorrow, pain. It seemed 
an inspired vision of life the player longed to live. 

Evidently there was little conforming to rules ; it 
was hard to follow the strange rhythms and effects ; 
slovenly often from the very height of himself, the 
player could afford to do what a lesser soul dared 
not. 

The hour, the dominance of the music, the 
strangeness of it all, held the listeners spellbound. 
Like a tale of the Arabian Nights, they heard and 
obeyed the genii of music, their pulses beating 
strangely to the rapture the melody held. The 
emotional effect was of a kind new to them — carry- 
ing with it a feeling of increased capacity of love 
and sympathy. Then the finale came — a swift, 
masterly epitome of the piece itself. 

It could not have been given for the benefit of 
others, seeing that in the deep night the player was 
unaware of listeners, but was as if given to him- 
self, by himself, for some culture which he wished 
to obtain here or hereafter, or for the rapture it- 
self of creation. 

In their utter absorption, Mrs. Allingham and 
Thesmi drew nearer and nearer to the door whence 
the sounds proceeded. Thesmi was in advance and 
but a few paces away, when the door was suddenly 


72 


THE TWO HOUSES 


opened and she was face to face with a young man 
carrying the cased instrument under his arm. 

Instinctively, with a well-bred manner, the player 
took off his hat and bowed. The opening of the 
door was so sudden, so unexpected, that Thesmi re- 
mained motionless, speechless. Apparently the 
musician saw no one else. He never once took his 
eyes, still lit with the glow of his translation, from 
her face. Then, as if realizing the strangeness of 
the fact that a beautiful woman stood at his door at 
that hour, a look of wonder, of questioning, 
entered his eyes, widening them, and he spoke in a 
slightly foreign accent. 

‘T beg pardon. You are looking for some one?” 

“No — yes — I have found ” Thesmi, as if 

unaware of what she answered, abstractedly held 
out her hand. His small passionate face, so close to 
her own, his composedness, and the resistless mag- 
netism of his presence, thrilled her strangely. “I 
must thank you. The music was ” 

“Thesmi !” It was her father who had arrived and 
was now blustering around. “It is an unconscion- 
able outrage that you have been kept out until this 
hour, Mrs. Allingham. I warned you about Thes- 
mi. Oh, it’s very good of you to shoulder some 

of the blame. But — well! one woman at the wheel 
is — but two ” Unimaginable things were im- 

plied by the aversion of Mr. Gouled’s head and the 
wave of his arm. 

For once he betrayed real anxiety about his 
daughter. He clutched her arm nervously. Be- 
neath all his bluster there was deep thankfulness in 
his eyes. Holding Thesmi as he did many of the 


THE TWO HOUSES 73 

common things of life, he had to learn how dear 
they are wlhen deprived of them. 

As if an after thought struck him, he turned to 
Thesmi, who was gazing after the retreating form 
of the violin player. 

“Who was that you were speaking to?” 

The boatman answered; he had stood unabash- 
edly by, an interested listener. “It is Zacho, Lauritz 
Zacho. He’s in luck /tonight; he’s got a job to play 
at the ” 

“Come ! come !” hastened Mr. Gouled, turning 
sharply to Thesmi, “For goodness sake let us get 
out of here! Don’t pick up any more out-of-the- 
way acquaintances. You have enough already. It 
is to be hoped that you have got to the last thing 
in riff-raff.” He took an arm of each and a short 
walk brought them to where the road resumed the 
character of a street and a carriage awaited them. 

A few days after the fishing trip, Mrs. Ailing- 
ham, having completed all business arrangements 
for the present, left for Vancouver to rejoin her 
son, promising Thesmi to write upon her arrival 
there. 

“They wtere a sick lot, Miss Thesmi, the night 
you were lost,” neighbor Sophy gossiped, as she 
tied on her apron preparatory to a day’s polishing 
up. “Even the ‘Harpy’ went around and forgot to 
scold. If she had lost you she’d have lost her oc- 
cupation. The only one I felt sorry for was dear 
old Althoth. Just like a man smoking to drown 
his care, he read aloud until I thought his tongue’d 
paralyze. This House would be a heaven if they’d 
put things in the right place. The angels don’t need 
broomsticks and dusters at the throne of God. And 


74 


THE TWO HOUSES 


that’s just what your aunt does. She’s given a 
heaven and she makes it a hell.” Sophy’s voice 
modified. “I may itell you, may I not, Miss Thesmi, 
what I’m going through now — my experiences ? 
I’m taken up — a rushing runs through me, like 
lightning “running to and fro.” I awraken in it; it 
is upon me like a flash. I am afraid and I call for 
help from the High Ones. I’d never tell this to any 
one but you, Miss Thesmi. Callimachus says I’m 
being made over, born again, just as the Bible says, 
only we don’t understand the words aright.” 

Thesmi knew that you cannot beat articles of 
faith out of people as you can out of a carpet, and 
she reciprocated the neighbor’s regard to such an 
extent that she did not try to stop the flow of ex- 
perience, well knowing that if she stopped this one 
another would be forthcoming. And sometimes the 
neighbor’s occultism, which often jogged her hear- 
ers uncannily to remember the things that kept earth 
in touch with heaven, helped to free Thesmi’s mind 
from the tyrrany of the actual. 

Thesmi, in her Den, attempted, time and again a 
partial rendition of the sorcerous melody. Never 
again, she told herself, could she dissociate moon- 
light and the violin. But, though an earnest 
student, her capacity for harmony well advanced, 
showing that soul-structures had been produced 
giving finer sensibilities, she might just as well have 
tried to depict the unstable soul of water, — its 
volume, power, weight, and the fury of the restless 
element, as to follow what seemed to be an incarnate 
device of the player’s own. And she well knew that 
the transmutation of the theme was in the province 
of pure art. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


75 


With her dangered gift of idealizing, Thesmi 
dwrelt upon the subtle change of atmosphere which 
only personality can effect, and which led her into 
fugitive speculations regarding the melodist. Who 
was he ? The boatman had said he starved half the 
time. Starved! She had read of men out of em- 
ployment, hungry and destitute, making away with 
themselves for that very reason. But that was far 
away. This was at their door. And how were the 
rich to know unless they mixed with those below 
them? 

Once Thesmi had seen an Indian youth, whom 
she knew, take up an unconcerned stand right in 
the middle of the rattling street, a very Belvidere 
in posture and form, his far-away gaze, unbounded 
by the brick walls, seeing the things he loved; all 
alone and lonely in the crowd he stood, and her 
mind classified the dreamy player and the Indian 
lad in a group by themselves. 

Short as the meeting with the violinist had been, 
an indelible something remained. 

Then Thesmi’s mind reverted to, Ishna’s words 
at their first meeting, — new friendships, changes, 
higher walks in life. How did she know? What- 
ever knowledge had been intrusted to the Women’s 
care, if any, they were discreet and faithful. Al- 
though they always acted and spoke as if there was 
more in life than the every-day necessities and sur- 
roundings, yet they apparently were tenetless and 
creedless. The incense and altar, if not mere re- 
membrances of earlier creeds, were only artificial 
aids, just as repetition of sacred wprds promotes 
spiritual growth — real structural changes. And 
they may have had some psychical ascendency over 


76 


THE TWO HOUSES 


their fellow beings — ^they may have been destined 
to dominate through some rare endowment; some 
power to distribute bountiful life after the divine 
manner. For there are always some appointed to 
guard the seeds of truth. 

Evidently the only creed they followed now was 
to pray, as in the Mass, for their own need and all 
the world’s. 

It was this all-embracing and all-touching sym- 
pathy and love that appealed to the waiting nature 
of Thesmi ; and that to such a degree that she found 
herself hourly gauging herself thereby. The reality 
of life, the responsibility of it, pressed her closely; 
yet not in a moody or servile manner, rather filling 
her with a sense of power that must belong to 
those who are designated to recognize and obey. 
She felt that, in a small measure, she too had all 
down her short line of life, obeyed, had been true 
to her intuitions, true to herself ; and that it was 
this affinity for and adherence to the god-like in her 
that brought much of the unpleasantness into her 
life. She constantly recognized things by their 
most important attributes. 

She was having her mineral tested; impurities — 
antimony, lead, zinc, lowering the value of the ores 
— were to be washed away ; leaving it pure. 

And were these strange meetings but mere mat- 
ters of coincidence, straws showing which way the 
w'ind blew — pointing her way; the wind that could 
point and that could also rend her sails far out at 
sea, or breeze her bark gaily to a quiet haven ? 

How Thesmi loved her Den ! Here there was no 
lack of privacy. In other parts of the House all the 
functions were carried on in the open, as it were, 


THE TWO HOUSES 


77 


in the presence of her aunt, or at best within hear- 
ing distance — which operated on Thesmi’s nerves 
like a glaring street lamp, effacing all attempts at 
subtleties of character or relationship. The only 
callers she ever had were the flying ants. They 
had made their nests for years in the garret and 
rather resented her occupation of it, they having 
a priori right to the place. They would make 
through the window, circling around her, then, dirt- 
laden as they were, wbuld dart into a corner left 
bare, depositing their industry on the rough boards. 
She had another visitor one day — a humming bird. 
It mistook the colored disk on her waist for a 
flower, where she stood at the window, and darted 
to her bosom. How entrancing it was to clasp the 
soft thing to her for a precious moment and then 
release it! 

Thesmi reached over for Mrs. Allingham’s letter, 
which had arrived that morning, and read it over 
for the second time. It ran : 

“My dear Thesmi: 

“Ralph has just finished an account of the pe- 
culiar care taken of him by two women on the 
water front of your city. Of course I always have 
to make allowance for Ralph’s impetuous enthusi- 
asm. But how beautiful it was that in his extrem- 
ity — and there was extremity, Thesmi dear, of a 
horrible kind, too — that he should receive such dear 
Christian care! But this is all in a line with 
Ralph’s genius for getting into tangles, — and out 
of them as well. It is almost impossible to get him 
at present to speak of anything else. He is a mem- 


78 


THE TWO HOUSES 


ber of some society in London, and says that body 
would be amazed to find w'bat he found in a quarter 
given over to the scum of the city. Living as the 
Women do, in this less orderly stratum of society, 
and knowing, as they do, that terrible forces, which 
may be quiescent, but which are never dead, assail 
the highest equally with the lowest, they are enabled 
to render aid of a sort never dreamed of by the aver- 
age person. He says he has heard that, outside of 
the Highlands of Scotland, where he spent two 
summers, the Pacific coast is the most psychic place 
in the world. I know little about that, but I always 
try to keep abreast of Ralph’s thought, deeming it 
Wiiser to let him wear out his ideas, for opposition 
only strengthens the evil. It is really, I think, the 
way the Women give their spirits room and sweep 
that attracts Ralph more than anything else. For 
he seems to register the revolt of the whole* world 
against energyless life. Just as soon as the air be- 
comes heavy and close, just as soon as common 
regularity becomes unbearable, he must have an ex- 
tra measure, some irregularity, to startle one. He 
seems to think that there is some mystery about the 
Women living in such a place, some reason out of 
the ordinary. They have some rites, too, but Ralph 
thinks that they merely feel that they are upheld 
somewhat by the familiar form and ceremonial. 
After all, do not these practices inculcate reverence? 
We make everything in the world too common 
these days, do we not? There is room. I’m sure, 
for innovation. 

“But between me and all this I am writing comes 
up the night we were lost on the Sound. Thesmi, 
dear, I have not been able to get that player and his 


THE TWO HOUSES 


79 


music awlay from me. The whole scene keeps ris- 
ing up until it seems as if there was bewitchment 
somewhere. The bewitchment of poverty, evi- 
dently, from what the boatman said. And there 
isn’t much glamour over that, we are told. How 
intense the young man’s emotion must have been 
while playing, for his instrument to give out the 
flute notes most of the time! How intense his 
nature to have resort almost entirely to the har- 
monics ! What persuasive power the tones carried 
to the heart 1 It seemed to me while I listened that 
he must have been recalling emotions and experi- 
ences of some other life, rather than this. I hope 
I do not wteary you, darling Thesmi, but it is not 
given to ordinary mortals to run across divinities 
at every turn of the road, and there was such 
potency for lofty things in the cadences of the in- 
strument that I was taken complete possession of. 
I have often wondered why these types — these 
wandering musicians, who one would think would 
be the most immature, were able to give the pathe- 
tic in tone and the love-dominant emotions with so 
much more intensity than our regular, most culti- 
vated players and singers. It must be that their 
emotions are stirred to a finer record — each life 
freer from the body than the last, the frequent 
repetition changing either their own organism, or 
the instrument played upon. Perhaps both. 

“But all this is only leading up to w^hat I really 
want to say. What a picture you and he made 
standing there with such sculptural effect — ^^as if 
both were petrified, or had suddenly come to life, 
or — what? Some chemical attraction certainly to 
cause two bodies, after circling around life aim- 


80 


THE TWO HOUSES 


lessly, to rush together in that way. Chance, of 
course! But, my dear Thesmi, aside from all this 
banter, what a refined face was his! You know for 
the time being I was a thing of neglect, but my 
point of view was all the stronger for that. And 

you Well, it was nothing but the delusive 

quality of the moonlight — nothing more! Nothing 
seemed real to me but that. 

“Ralph has heard so much about you that he is 
looking forward with pleasure to making your 
acquaintance. He vows that he must meet those 
Women again to learn more from them, more of 
the practical way they apply their knowledge. And, 
if Ralph is anything he is eminently practical. 
Some would dispute this on some accounts, yet 
when it comes down to actual consideration, it is 
the truth. ‘God hears men’s hands before their 
lips,’ is a favorite quotation of his. He affirms 
with emphasis that the little he saw of the Women 
helped him in a wonderful way to a deeper sense 
of the real nature of life. How shall we tolerate 
staid old England if we keep on this way? The 
Western spirit seems to have laid hold on Ralph. 

“Your very new but very dear friend, 
“Evelyn Allingham.” 

Thesmi’s cheeks wiere a deeper carnation than 
they usually were after the perusal of the letter. 
And it was left lying close to hand, for letters are 
like people — one reading is enough for some and a 
thousand readings are not enough for others. 

And, thereafter, illuminated by this thought of a 
lover half waif, whole nobody, she appeared in a 


THE TWO HOUSES 


81 


new light to herself. She was affected deeply by 
the incident at least, was happier for thinking about 
it — ^^and that after all is the real end of even a 
drama on the stage. 


82 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER SEVEN. 

The Lawn Party. 

“The beauty of speech is a radiation of truth; 
and a true utterance is invariably beautiful.” 

“In its terminology the world is wiser than it 
knows.” 

“Few things are so wonderful as language; 
few things better worth studying.” 

‘‘Dear old Althoth, Old Sweetness, won’t you let 
me read aloud to you a little each day? Just until 
your eyes improve.” Thesmi hastened the amend- 
ment, seeing the protesting hand raised ever so 
deprecatingly at the thought that his treasure trove 
should come to him through another’s lips. She 
had watched from afar the ineffectual torment — 
the trying to separate the blurred letters, — and 
though he never gave out one sign of mental tor- 
ture beyond suppressed groans, she hesitated over 
the suggestion until she could bear it no longer. 
Althoth was growing more meagre every day, and 
his failing eyesight was a source of concern to the 
whole household, endeared to him by his unfailing 
gentleness and courtesy. Recent treatment prom- 
ised, if not a cure, alleviation of the disease. 
Thesmi spent much of her time now ministering to 
the old scholar’s comfort. But this was the first 
time she had suggested reading aloud to him. 

She drew his chair close to the window, where 
the sun, now hot and bright after the heavy shower, 
poured in. Her eyes swept the landscape, noting 


THE TWO HOUSES 


83 


the mist rising from the trees and foliage across the 
point; then back to the snow-hooded mountains, 
the fir-clad foothills, and the shimmering Sound. 
Was Althoth to be shut out forever from all this? 
A fresh access of pity blurred her own sight. 
Evidently he had overcome the first antipathy of 
the reading, and when she turned he was caressing 
his long-cherished volumes, — volumes large and 
volumes small, volumes brown and black and of 
no color whatever, the expression on his face evinc- 
ing the pleasure he anticipated. It was a joint 
pleasure, for into the hard, modern atmosphere of 
the Gouled home a fresh breeze from the Antilles 
was introduced. 

A sudden high feeling of being a centre arose 
within Thesmi. She knew how much Althoth de- 
pended upon her for various offices that no one else 
in the household could or wbuld perform as she 
did. And how she should love to help her father 
in some way! She wished she could get closer to 
him. But this high privilege — living close to one 
another, seemed to belong to the very poor. And 
how much the poor gained by this precious depend- 
ence. The meaning came to her of what it meant 
to be indispensable to some one. But to be so in a 
high sense, must it not mean that one must be the 
stronger and higher — an elder brother? She 
braced as if she felt that she must be strong and 
good. 

And now she was to be a light to Althoth, liter- 
ally as well as figuratively. “A lamp to my feet.” 
How the Biblical phrase rose to her! What new 
meaning it revealed ! And as if to add to the deeper 
significance of the words, Thesmi’s mind reverted 


84 


THE TWO HOUSES 


to Neighbor Sophy’s recitation of the day before, 
an experience wjiich she claimed to have had. 
True, Sophy, an unsnubable quantity, but kind of 
heart, dabbled in various out-of-the-way, new- 
named matters, lately arrived from the East, but 
that did not lessen the singularity of the applica- 
tion of the words. And her story seemed to be 
the truthful chronicling of an actual occurrence. 
Whenever she had a dream she advised with her 
son and then off with it to a neighbor. 

The mystic solace of her son was a never failing 
source of pride and happiness to Sophy. Between 
them they kept a sort of clearing house, Callimachus 
furnishing the spiritual pabulum for the neighbor- 
hood, in which . he was looked upon as a brilliant 
psychic number. And, too, he was* so likeable in 
his controlling weakness. He seemed somehow 
even in his incompletion irrevocably complete. He 
gave no impression of carrying around a spurious 
invoice. And his contentment, so easy to have, was 
always contagious. 

“Of course it would sound crazy,” the neighbor 
had begun, “to some people, and I don’t tell it to 
every one. Miss Thesmi ; but you never laugh at 
me and my stories and dreams, no matter what you 
may think about them. And it’s something to speak 
to one who always behaves as you do. There’s 
your aunt — But never mind — were you here the 

day she rushed me out because I began ? You 

weren’t. Well, the story I’m going to tell you is 
God’s Truth in more ways than one. 

“When we lived on the ranch a small float was 
all we had for a landing for a long time. One night 
when my husband, little Callie and myself returned 


THE TWO HOUSES 


85 


home on the small steamer, we were overtaken by 
a real squall just as we stepped from the boat to 
the landing. Out went the lantern when the gust 
struck us ; away steamed the boat, her lights as she 
moved across the waters the only thing alive in the 
darkness. The narrow float was pitching and tossing 
like a piece of cork, and there was not another 
match to get a light with, the wind whipping the 
spark out every time before it blazed. We could 
not see each other, but I held fast to Callie and 
braced myself to keep from falling off. We had 
to walk the long length of a felled tree from the 
float to reach the shore, and my husband told me to 
wait until he would see if it was safe to venture, 
for by this time the waves were rushing over every- 
thing. After he left me I moved to what I thought 
was a safer place, a little nearer the tree against 
which the float was fastened. Suddenly a light — 
a light throw right at my feet, showed me that 
one step, — ^yes, half a step, more in that direction, 
and we were lost in the darkness — in the boiling 
waters. I never lose my head. Miss Thesmi, never. 
It’s a little strange but I’m always clear in my mind 
and keep thinking. And, quick as thought, I turned 
my head to see if the steamer had come back, for 
where else could the light come from, with not an- 
other house within a mile? The steamer light shone 
faint and far on her way to another point. The 
eerie illumination not only showed me the water 
running over the float, outlining the corner of it 
sharply, but remained until I drew back and huddled 
down with Callie on the boards. But wait. Miss 
Thesmi, we got off safe but I hadn’t a chance to 
speak to my husband, for he hurried on to get a 


86 


THE TWO HOUSES 


light. We were no sooner composed a little — for 
we were in danger and knew it — than he said to 
me, ‘Sophy, I have something to tell you. When I 
opened the door, — and you know how like pitch it 
was, — a light waved across the room as plain as 
plain could be — a light in that awful blackness.’ 
Then I told him, and only then, of the Light at my 
feetr 

And the grandeur of the things unknown evi- 
dently impressed the neighbor, and she seemed to 
have acquired a definite certitude in the matter. 

After settling Althoth comfortably, Thesmi read 
on and on, trying to modulate her voice to suit her 
hearer’s sensitive ear. Many of the marked pas- 
sages she read over twice and thrice at the gentle 
command, “Read that over again, Thesmi.” She 
frequently paused to interrogate him for a further 
enlightenment of the text, much of what she read 
opening up to her a compelling interest. 

“Some day, dear Althoth, I am going to give you 
descriptions of ceremonies and practices that I have 
seen here among our own Indians. You will see 
that they parallel many mentioned by Virgil and 
other writers. You know the Indians let me see 
and tell me a great deal more than they do most 
people. Perhaps that is because I love them. I 
can’t help it; they appeal strongly to me. They 
seem to care more for their beliefs and customs 
than anything else. When your eyesight gets 
stronger we will bring together many interesting 
things I remember. You will be able to appreciate 
them better after that.” 

“The ethereal vigor is in all the same: 

And every soul is filled with equal fiame “ 


THE TWO HOUSES 


87 


Althoth quoted from memory, his partly shaded 
eyes turning with longing on the book in Thesmi’s 
hand. 

“It will be a great pleasure to me to assist you, 
Thesmi. Some hitherto escaped beauty of lan- 
guage may come to light, some analogy that has 

evaded me. The beauty of speech, words ! *in 

the beginning w!as the Word,' Thesmi. Mark the 
passages as you proceed, that have any bearing on 
the subject you propose taking up. Small marks, 
please, on the margin. It will be a great pleasure. 
Let us begin now.” 

“Not today, Althoth dear, I have an engagement 
this afternoon. We will begin the interesting work 
soon.” 

The reading over, Thesmi rose and smoothed 
back the long lines of grey hair, noting as she did 
so the quiet lines about the mouth, telling of the 
peaceful mind of the book lover. 

Of late, Thesmi, to keep peace in the family, 
mixed more in society than was her wont, the 
pleasure her father expressed at this being a suffi- 
cient reward. Her afternoon engagement took her 
up to the hill district, sparsely settled at that time. 
The lawn party was in full progress when she ar- 
rived. The young people were vivacious and the 
afternoon went quickly by. Thesmi was about to 
take leave of her hostess, when a slight commotion 
among the girls drew her attention to a young man 
ascending the path. 

“Girls,” exclaimed a chubby blonde, “who is that 
coming up the walk?” 

The hostess, standing close to Thesmi, knitted 
her brow as she watched the supple gait. That s 


88 THE TWO HOUSES 

not the regular paper carrier. He looks like a ” 

“I thought he was an afternoon caller until I 
saw the budget of newspapers under his arm. 
Didn’t you, Tilly?” 

“Oh, the idea!” answered Tilly scornfully. “An 
afternoon caller with a suit like that! And the 
hat! ha, ha, ha!” 

“It was his general appearance,” retorted the 
first speaker, a girl with a thoughtful manner. 
“Sometimes one doesn’t think of clothes when the 
person is ” 

“A romance, girls!” cried the irrepressible Tilly; 
“a prince in disguise ! Let’s ask him what has be- 
come of the regular carrier.” 

She fluttered in front of him, holding out her 
hand for the paper, but before she could frame her 
question, a curious thing happened. The carrier 
caught sight of Thesmi where she stood a little 
screened by the hostess, and he took an eager step 
in her direction, holding out his hand with frank 
but respectful greeting of acquaintanceship. The 
ominous silence which fell on everything caused 
him to start and look around, and the disagreeable 
curl on the lips of the girl who had taken the paper 
from his hand, the scornful social stares, broke his 
dream, he turned swiftly, touched his hat with an 
aristocratic gesture of apology, and was gone. 

Thesmi had not moved. She recognized him only 
at the last minute, it all happened so quickly — the 
carrier was the wfeird musician of the water-front. 

Evidently he had been caught in an eddy — swirled 
off his bearings — and as suddenly also thrown 
out, had found his place. She barely had time to 


THE TWO HOUSES 89 

note his pallor as he turned away, testifying to 
the emotion he suffered in that brief time. 

Thesmi met the intimidating eyes of her friends 
with calmness, even bravado, though inwardly a 
seething vortex of scorn and wrath. Every indi- 
vidual well-groomed girl, answering to the demands 
of society, ostracised her with ice-cold politeness. 
What little assets of strength and character the 
belles possessed had been sacrificed to afternoon 
teas and other important social affairs, so, in the 
end, Thesmi cared little for their shrugs and 
inuendoes. As well, she told herself, try the prov- 
erbial mixture — water and oil — as for her to try 
mingling with people who hardened their souls as 
well as their faces to any human being not reared 
by their standard. 

“Hello, Zacho! wait a minute. You’re a regular 
tornado of a fellow of late.” The speaker caused 
the Dane to describe a half circle, so great was the 
momentum with which the two came together. “I 
was just on my way to find you. D’ye w'ant a job 
at the Frye Theatre tonight? There’s been a devil 
of a rumpus. The manager booked the best com- 
pany through here from San Francisco — and it’s 
not every day Seattle gets that — and the first thing 
he knew, or didn’t know, the fellow who was to 
take some part or other quarreled with another of 
the musicians as to who was the best in some part — 
I heard the whole thing — ^^and the same train that 
brought him to Seattle took him back again to San 
Francisco. The manager’s wild. The thing has 
been advertised for weeks. I told him about you, 
and that I thought you could fill the bill, if they’d 


90 


THE TWO HOUSES 


let you play your own way. A fellow isn’t around 
a theatre all his life without learning some things. 
All that’s the matter with you is that you seem to 
be playing to yourself, as if what others heard or 
thought of your playing was nothing. Hand over 
your papers to some one and come with me. Come 
on, that’s a good fellow. You may not need to 
peddle papers if you can get in with some of the 
craft. I’ve always had a friendly feeling for you. 
Get on the best togs you have.” The stage carpen- 
ter thought a minute then ran on again : “Say, are 

they all in at ?” He pointed across the street 

to the mystic symbol — the three balls. “If they 
iare. I’ll let you have enough money to rent a suit 
for tonight.” 

“No,” answered the Dane quickly. “I have some 
things left. I will go with you.” 

“I thought you wouldn’t punch a hole in that 
proposition,” nodded the other. 

They were a striking contrast as they hurried 
along the street together. The stage carpenter was 
a short, sturdy, compact figure, while the Dane, 
taller by a head, was of elegant figure, which even 
the shabbiest of clothes could not hide. His man- 
ner, while unassuming, was marked by a shade of 
hauteur — noblesse. The fineness of his face was en- 
hanced by a mouth and chin of remarkable beauty, 
and the sweep of rich brown hair surmounted a 
classic brow. 

Frye’s Theatre was packed to the full the night 
that the stranded Dane was to fill in a famed vio- 
linist’s part. The whole theatre-going, music-lov- 
ing population of Seattle was out in force. The 
city at that time scarcely warranted plays of so 


THE TWO HOUSES 91 

high an order ; financially there was risk in bringing 
such to the new Western town. 

The manager had seen enough, incredible as it 
seemed, from the last-moment rehearsal, to realize 
that the stage carpenter’s friend was likely to save 
the day, to prevent the entertainment from being a 
Sedan. 

At her father’s request, Thesmi had a box party 
on hand that night, with aunt Meg as chaperone. 
The latter did not care any more for a fine piece of 
music than for her old shoe, but was glad of the 
opportunity of having her niece under her surveil- 
lance for an evening just by way of novelty. 

The audience was totally unaware of the substi- 
tution ; the incident occurring very close to the open- 
ing hour, the harassed manager neither had time 
nor inclination to disturb the balance — the uncer- 
tainty. 

Thesmi sat facing the entrance of the stage. She 
was dressed entirely in black — enhanced black-rich 
and lacy looking and made in a most becoming 
style; the only color the soft brown of the high- 
piled hair, the exquisite flesh tints, and the pure 
flash from a clustered diamond pin at her bosom. 
Her face wore a look of still, pure feeling; she was 
a perfect picture of swfeet composure, having 
dropped into that half-blissfulness which one has at 
times, arising from keen but controlled bodily en- 
joyment and pleasurable emotion. 

Preoccupied at times, Thesmi did not notice the 
player of the evening enter. When the trembling 
tones, familiar in some way, fell upon the waiting 
house, she looked full at the carrier, the musician 


92 


THE TWO HOUSES 


of the moonlight. Incredulous surprise and a vivid 
color swept her face at the same instant. 

Evidently he had seen her from the first; there 
was no mistaking the recognition in his eyes. 

There was nothing in the Dane’s manner or ap- 
pearance to indicate that he was an amateur on the 
stage or had been assigned the part on so short 
notice. He had no need, evidently, to watch his 
cue closely; familiarity with the part was every- 
where obvious. 

There was, too, a distinctive, unusual, uncopyable 
way of handling the instrument. In short pauses, 
his fingers seemed to caress it; he bent over as if 
speaking to it. Over and over he would do this. 
It was as if he was passing the fire of his being 
into the wood itself — commanding it to respond. 
The effect was magical. Life seemed to leap — the 
life of music — before the audience. But this was 
only when the player was left comparatively free in 
his rendering; the moment restraint was put upon 
the bow, the moment he had to conform entirely to 
the regular, the tones, though ever of the purest, 
were less entrancing. And there was always a 
reserve that suggested whole areas of felicitous 
fields yet untrodden. 

And that was how Lauritz Zacho, the Dane, 
played. 

Thesmi knew that the music, played with such 
consummate art and feeling was secondary to 
something else in the player’s mind ; a higher stake 
than a mere night’s pay. He played in original 
ways under the exhilaration of a Presence. And she 
thrilled to the passion of it strangely, as that night 
on the beach. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


93 


Hastening her exit from the theatre, hoping to 
avoid a meeting with her lawn-party-friends, 
Thesmi piloted her party to the nearest door. That 
her friends recognized the paper carrier in the 
musician was made evident all through the evening. 
More than once the opera glass had been directed, 
from the box opposite, first to the player and then 
to herself. She knew that they were talking about 
her, and the thought brought hot tingles to her ears 
and a vicious little snap to her eyes. But the 
crowded house permitted little choice in the matter 
of avoidance of disagreeable things, and the first 
thing she heard was : 

“Thesmi Gouled! Who in the world is that 
young man? Isn’t that the same carrier — the one 
who delivered the papers the day of the party — the 
one who recognized you — that bowed to you ? Who 
is he, anyway? How handsome he is! Tell us all 
about him. Why does he carry papers when he 
can play like that? How did you become ac- 
quainted with him?” 

“Acquainted with whom? What did you say — a 
newspaper boy? What are you talking about? 
What intrigue is this ? Thesmi Gouled, your 
father shall hear of this! Open street talk! If I 

had my way ” Aunt Meg’s explosion caused 

one of the girls to giggle aloud, and inquisitive 
eyes were turned their way. 

Thesmi, her face crimson, tried to escape, but 
her aunt, officiously gripping the arm of her niece, 
elbowed her way unceremoniously through the 
crowd, at the same time keeping up a running 
fusilade of invective. She did the right thing once 
in her life, for she saved Thesmi the ordeal of reply. 


94 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER EIGHT. 

Thesmi Meets Ralph. 

“Nothing is lost of that which thou layest for 
God and thy brother.” 

“For in the eyes of love there is nothing that 
is little nor poor, nor unworthy of prayer.” 

The grass did not grow under Aunt Meg’s feet. 
Mark Gouled was made aware of his daughter’s 
latest escapade — the incident of the theatre. His 
sister never considered any one’s feelings nor made 
allowance for those who did. 

It mattered little what his daughter offered in the 
way of explanation, Mark Gouled’s severity was 
even more marked than ordinary. For days after, 
Thesmi felt that she was under surveillance, and 
the thought deepened her color and augmented her 
distaste, of a life where no real communion of spirit 
existed ; where truth was of no avail to win love or 
compel trust. It seemed that she asked for so little, 
yet received even less. 

To add to her almost joyless home life, her father 
was becoming morose and gloomy. He spent more 
time, too, around the house, often remaining in his 
room for days. To all enquiries as to the state of 
his health or kind offers of sympathy he answered 
temperishly. A great pity often surged up in the 
heart of Thesmi, especially when she detected a note 
of depression in her father’s voice. This was so 
wholly different from his hitherto altogether self- 
sufficient manner that she lost sight of her own an- 
noyances in her anxiety for her father’s welfare. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


95 


At times, he seemed almost to solicit her aid — as 
if on the verge of disclosing some matter of im- 
portance, something that he wished her to know and 
give counsel upon. But this passing humor was 
generally succeeded hy one of even more pro- 
nounced petulance and irritation. Thesmi finally 
gave up speculating and devoted herself to Althoth, 
now becoming an object of much care. 

Entering the sitting-room one day, Thesmi was 
surprised at her father beckoning her to a seat be- 
side him. He held a paper covered with figures. 
He looked a little sheepishly at his daughter as he 
said : 

“So you admire Mrs. Allingham, eh, Thesmi? 
Well, you’ve good taste when it comes to the real 
thing. I hope you’ll like her son as well. He’s 
back from his long expedition in the north. How 
curious it is that you’ve never been able to meet 
him all this time ! Always something or other has 
cropped up to prevent it. He’s the real thing — 
no chance for imitation there, I can tell you. I’ve 
been waiting impatiently to see more of him and 
to have you meet him. Get ready. We’ll go to 
Vancouver tomorrow, a flying trip, to bid Mrs. Al- 
lingham goodbye. She leaves soon for England, 
as you know. There’s no reason why she should 
not winter here — our climate is much the same 
as the English — the rainy season is much the same. 
Ralph remains behind. He is not through explor- 
ing yet. Would you like to look over these figures 
with me, Thesmi? How much do you suppose 
the Allinghams are worth? It is in excess of any- 
thing I ever imagined.” 

Thesmi hardly understood. Her father had never 


96 


THE TWO HOUSES 


chosen before to be confidential with her about 
money matters — indeed, on no matter whatever. 
But she looked interested at seeing him so evidently 
in better spirits, and told herself that her uneasi- 
ness on his account must have been imaginary. 
She hesitated before she answered, 

“You know, papa, that a page 'pf figures is 
Greek to me. Something was left out of my com- 
position when figures and rules were in evidence.” 

“That’s all the more reason,” her father replied 
briskly, “why you should look into money matters 
at this time — ” He hesitated, looked embarassed, 
and hastened to cover himself by saying, “But 
never mind. Be guided by me and all will be 
well. You will save the day if — ” 

“Why, papa, is anything wrong that you say all 
will be well if I am guided by you?” Thesmi 
looked keenly and enquiringly at her father for the 
first time in her life. Why this unbending to her? 
He had always seemed so self-contained ; as fixed 
in himself as the North Star, and this sudden 
movableness perplexed her. 

“We must not let this chance of a lifetime slip 
past us. They can’t miss what I have — ” Her 
father was not speaking to her in particular; it 
was more as if he was unconsciously uttering his 
thoughts aloud. He soon sank into one of his 
moody silences, and after a time folded up the 
paper abstractedly and left the house. 

Nothing could be warmer than Mrs. Allingham’s 
welcome. She hastened in search of Ralph, and 
with her keen but well-bred glance watched the 
meeting of the young people. The mother looked 
as if her personal feeling in the matter must attach 


THE TWO HOUSES 97 

itself to her son — he must admire the wholesome 
Western girl as much as she did. 

“Miss Gouled,” Ralph said, with a soft drawl, 
“you are no stranger to me. But I was beginning 
to think that you were going to prove as mythical 
a personage as some of those in your beautiful In- 
dian stories. We have been so near each other 
and yet so far.” 

Thesmi felt at once the subtle change of atmos- 
phere that only personality can effect. Ralph’s tact 
and cultivation of mind were obvious in all that he 
did and said. Under the masculine element, she 
sparkled and scintillated with happiness and inno- 
cent repartee. His superior nature called forth 
deference at once from inferiors. In the matter 
of sex attraction, he was the kind that could not 
move among lesser natures without their being at 
once beguiled into romantic notions concerning him. 

“Ralph has become charged with the Western 
spirit and refuses to return at this time to Eng- 
land,” Mrs. Allingham declared. “The wide prov- 
ince of the Northwest holds great attractions for 
him. And,” she added, “left alone, you must be 
good to him, darling Thesmi ; both, — you must 
both be good to him.” 

“Thank you. Mater mine,” Ralph exclaimed in 
a bantering tone, “for the melodious name — 
Darling Thesmi ! May I call you — ” 

“Keep him in order, my dear, I leave him in your 
hands,” and the Mater crossed the room to where 
Mark Gouled, with a pleased smile on his face, 
sat toying with a newly sharpened pencil. 

Ralph soon engaged Thesmi in a lively discus- 
sion over the similarity of the Siwash legends of 


98 


THE TWO HOUSES 


the coast with the old Norse tales and others. 
Then he branched off into the curious beliefs of 
the day. 

“This is an age of rationalism, Miss Gouled,” 
he asserted, “and not one of blind groping. We 
must see to it that we don’t follow the lower when 
the higher is before us. You have two Women in 
your city whom I am anxious to meet again. I 
have a proposition to make to them. I will tell 
you all about it when I visit Seattle, which will be 
soon.” 

Ralph was a believer in individual advancement. 
But he always took the most positive form into 
consideration. He often lost sight of the fact that 
advancement can go on under very quiet, even 
humdrum, circumstances ; that through those very 
insignificant and listless lines the actual forma- 
tion is taking place. The processes of ordeal, be- 
ing interior, subsist irrespective of outward deeds. 

Ralph was tall and slightly narrow-chested. His 
near-sightedness compelled him to wear glasses, 
and he always bent over and looked his companion 
directly and winningly in the face. This in turn 
compelled the more particularly noticing the rich- 
ness of the brown eyes and hair, the handsome 
features and that peculiar air of gentility that Wal- 
ter Scott says is so hard to imitate. 

And he seemed one that would die if he did not 
get the loose energy out of his system. 

After her return home, Thesmi often looked 
with longing down on the tabooed quarter — the 
huts — which in some places seemed wattled to- 
gether, and where all built and lived to suit their 
own pleasure — individualists par excellence. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


99 


Sometimes when enormous masses of warm 
color held the evening sky, fading out gradually, 
like the tremendous crash of an orchestra passing 
off into soft silence, the unfeelingness, the abject- 
ness of the place hurt. 

Why should such glory and meanness cross each 
other — warm and cool tints — through this union 
between humanity and nature? 

To Thesmi the hut of Signa and Ishna seemed 
the abode of love. With no light-hearted ameli- 
oration of the severity of the home to be hoped 
for, and craving spiritual nourishment, she would 
rather a half hour of thoughtful communion than 
hours spent with those of fashionable education, 
and which is so often vulgar. To be sure, some 
of the observances of Ishna were utterly inex- 
plicable, but they were of such an unobtrusive 
character that they could have been a mere vest- 
ment, to be put on and off at will. How mightily 
they had striven not to remain mere vapid elderly 
women aimlessly passing their days, none knew. 
Never unregardful of sorrow or loneliness, they 
always were ready to fulfil the present duties and 
objects of life. 

Swedenborg asserts that in heaven elderly wo- 
men attain to great heights and continue to grow 
younger daily instead of older. But whose disci- 
ples Signa and Ishna were, if disciples at all, none 
knew. The spirit seemed to flow unhindered as if 
they had completed some circuit. And it was be- 
cause they had appealed so instantly to the spiritual 
nature of Thesmi that she so venerated and loved 
them. Like the women of Scripture, on the way 
to Emmaus, whose hearts burned within them while 


100 


THE TWO HOUSES 


He talked to them, her heart burned while she 
listened to the words of the Two Women.- 

Thesmi was not one to folldW’,' along traditional 
lines. The old cry of the soul was hers — freedom, 
liberty. This was the real pivot of her being. 
But as yet she was still in a confused but personal 
state of strongly expressed emotions and aspira- 
tions; a state perhaps preferable to clearly formu- 
lated verbal fallacies. Without understanding all 
this, she felt herself hindered by her environment. 
Her concern, from a very early age, had been to 
maintain an innate, unchangeable high ideal of her 
own responsibility in choosing a path in life, and 
following her own intuitions in matters of moment. 

And then the continual contrast! Her aunt’s 
ungraciousness, her father’s insensibility — the 
harshness and coldness, and Thesmi hated both — ■ 
and the sweet antidote of the Women’s voices, 
their gentleness and warmth of hand clasp, spirit 
to spirit. And spirituality to Thesmi was a real- 
ity, and she felt that it was impossible to ignore it. 

Aunt Meg’s philippics against the proscribed 
quarter and its inhabitants were augmented by an 
occurrence that overshadowed all the rest. 

'‘Where’s the other man?” demanded Aunt Meg 
at the back door. 

“Oh,” said the new fish-vender, blinking at the 
irate mien of his customer, “Michalek the Aus- 
trian I He’s dead ; he was murdered.” 

“Murdered 1” Aunt Meg drew back from the 
fish basket as if the knife would spring out at her. 
^‘Who murdered him? What a place I” 

“Nobody knows. My wife — she’s Indian ; we 
live back of him ; kind of hang on to the bluff and 


THE TWO HOUSES 


101 


can see everything — she says she saw two men 
peering in at his back window. You see, he was 
the most well-to-do fisherman in the village. He 
had a big chest, and he talked about his money a 
lot. Very foolish. Mum’s the word down there.” 

“Didn’t he cry out for help? there are people 
all around there.” 

“Oh, yes, ma’am, and that’s where the queer 
part comes in. I don’t go in for the gullible my- 
self ; there’s nothing in it the one way or the 
other. But the Austrian was a superstitious sort. 
He kept calling, ‘Ho! Help! You Women, you 
Two Holy Women!’ The fellow had a powerful 
voice, but it would take a queer one to reach the 
other end, where they were. And I guess from 
the looks of things that he fought like a tiger. But 
we don’t know. A man may not just tell what he 
will do until the thing’s upon him. He may have 
lost his nerve somehow.” 

He then went on to say that for a time the 
sentiment of the village had been against the Two 
Women. But it transpired that it was the man’s 
faith and belief in the Women that prompted the 
long-range call in his hour of need. His obscure 
notions craved for concrete objects of faith. This 
quieted the gossip in the unjudicial quarter. 

The Austrian’s call for help from the Women 
perhaps was the most convincing illustration of 
the power they had won over the village. 

“They tell us,” added the new-comer, as, draw- 
ing the cover from the basket, he displayed his 
finny wares, “they tell us the Women are — ” 

“Well, don’t come around here any more. I’ll 
send to the market for fish. Go off about your 


102 THE TWO HOUSES 

business.” The fisherman was impressed and 
obeyed. 

After the interview with the squaw man, Aunt 
Meg, as usual, hunted up Althoth. She would not 
respect even his weakened condition, but carried 
all the tittle tattle of the neighborhood to his tor- 
tured ears. 

“Those people are the friends of murderers, lun- 
atics and fools. People will be playing pitch and 
toss with Thesmi’s good name yet.” 

The gentle Althoth, white-faced and alarmed, 
shrank from the scolding horror. Her words 
struck him like a whip-lash. 

“Thesmi I my Thesmi ?” he shrilled in incredu- 
lous tones. “As well disparage Vesta — Hestia — 
presiding over the hearth, keeping alive the sacred 
fire, as smirch the name of my Thesmi. She is all 
I have ; I need her. She is constantly with me. 
Fm thankful she’s not here. Don’t dare repeat 
this; I command you. My blindness has not been 
altogether evil since it has given me a vision of a 
soul as dear as the sweet sunshine itself.” 

For the sake of making a sensational statement. 
Aunt Meg had selected a distasteful subject, and 
old Althoth was as near being convulsed with anger 
as it was possible for him to be. He trembled piti- 
fully, and Meg, slightly abashed, sniffed out of the 
room. 

It was the half-witted man who alone knew all 
of the tragedy and more. His narrow face working 
and lashed with fear he had sped and acquainted 
the Women of the crying voice of the fisherman’s 
despair. Then he had started back stumbling over 
the debris-strewn ground and, panting, brought up 


THE TWO HOUSES 103 

to the rough hand that had fed him all these many 
years. 

A crowd of men hung around the dead body of 
the Austrian when the Women arrived — trust the 
people to love tragedy. The wealthiest fisherman 
of the place lay with a knife thrust into his breast. 
Hoping that there might be some mistake, that a 
blow less sure might have been struck, they had 
pushed their way through. But there was no mis- 
take ; the man was dead, lying there with the life 
gone out of his lusty throat. 

He wasn’t a pleasant sight, but death doesn’t al- 
ways aim at beauty — he scorns re-touching gen- 
erally, and the other tricks of the trade. He aims 
only for truth. 

When the others had withdrawn, the witless one 
drew the big, coarse hand clumsily to his slobberly 
lips. Like a sentinel light, a guardian of the night, 
silent, sleepless, that knows but one rule, that 
never forgets or becomes confused, he knew but 
one rule — kindness — the hand that fed him. 

After the bruited fame of the murder, Thesmi 
did not dare venture near the village. But when 
the wind came sheering up from the bay, her 
thoughts went out to the Two Women, laboring to 
lessen, with their little profundities of self, the 
pain of those around them. 

Sophy was often called upon now to assist in the 
care of Althoth, and proved a certain corrective in 
the household; though set notions are not always 
a guarantee of agreeable companionship — she had 
received her Blavatsky education as she went 
along. With modern precision, she had discovered 
an understanding of the elusive tenets she har- 


104 


THE TWO HOUSES 


bored that left room for thought, to say the least. 

Thesmi had a youthful dignity that was very 
pleasing. She never was guilty of provoking to 
laughter, yet a full appreciation of humor was 
hers, and the neighbor’s tilts with the housekeeper 
were often as effective as a play. It could have 
been a play, but it was life, throbbing, progressive 
life; part of the drama of life, which is made up 
of subordinate parts. 

‘‘Your aunt has no time for me. Miss Thesmi,” 
Sophy said one day, “but I get more out of life 
than she does. She works her help until they are 
rails. When I told her that the other day, she 
looked as if she’d like to pluck me bald. What’s 
the use of living if we haven’t time to love one 
another, haven’t time for anything but — ? Now 
there’s me and Callie. I wouldn’t exchange him 
this minute for your father with all his money and 
smartness. The sympathy of him ! The comfort 
of him ! He gets right into the heart of one. My 
Callie ” 

“I’d have more respect for him — the molly- 
coddle — ” Aunt Meg snapped out who had entered 
the room and listened to the eulogy of Callimachus, 
“if he’d saw a stick of wood occasionally. I saw 
you out the other morning at the woodpile 
yourself.” 

“He wasn’t up yet. He’s not strong. He saws 
when I hold the stock for him. He’s so com- 
panionable, he doesn’t like to work alone.” 

The fond mother was not to be deterred by the 
hostile force. She returned to the attack. 

“I don’t need to keep a tab on my Callie, either ; 


THE TWO HOUSES 105 

as if he was a prisoner. He’s always there ready 
to listen to a dream or a vis — ” 

*‘He dangles after you as if he was a baby. He’s 
got no more backbone than a jelly-fish.” Aunt 
Meg never minced matters. Only the neighbor’s 
handiness in sickness gained her a footing in the 
household. The housekeeper always lashed out 
with either hand, so to speak; yet, nevertheless, at 
times she had to bite a fat-smeared home-thrust. 

But Thesmi could alw'ays smile zmth the mother 
of Callimachus, not at her. What seemed often but 
mere, empty vaporings, were really beautiful 
touches of human nature. 

Life for Thesmi was not even at this time wholly 
unendurable. Though she was unaware of it, there 
was taking place a readjustment. Even her aunt’s 
belligerent attitude was not devoid of profit, for it 
drove her to the seclusion and culture of her Den. 

Althoth’s reading had certainly proved an edu- 
cational agency, furnishing nutriment for thought 
and memory. She was not crammed, therefore 
could digest well what was given. Above all else, 
it awioke the imaginative and spiritual capability of 
her youth ; it deepened her mind. This was shown 
by her habit of paralleling the Indian stories and 
classic myths. 

She continued her daily reading to Althoth when- 
ever his strength permitted him to listen. He in- 
sisted upon the proper accent of both vowel and 
consonant. When any minutial on her part were 
neglected, he carefully corrected her in his own 
mild, scholarly way. But she often craved to hear 
the dear old voice again, for though it often sank 
to a measured monotone, she derived pleasure from 


106 


THE TWO HOUSES 


the intonation. His reading fitted him like an 
irreproachable garment. And it sometimes seemed 
as if he had attained to the very truths he quoted. 

Then, too, the common, hourly experiences, the 
slow battering, gained for Thesmi patience and 
fortitude. By these little by-paths was she led 
into the main road. This very holding together of 
all that was best in herself, pitched her to ^ high 
key, where otherwjise perhaps she would have 
made hard for a merely shallow existence. That 
she was able later to fathom and appreciate the 
dignity and intricate responsibility of her aunt’s 
housekeeping — the one high light in the muddy 
complexion — was a promise of itself under the 
circumstances. 

It was only in the seclusion of her Den, though, 
twanging the strings of her violin — mandolin fash- 
ion — that her thoughts went out tO' the player in all 
their intensity. For his image was constantly be- 
fore her. How fatefully, persistently, he had been 
allowed to cross her path ! In the beginning she 
had fought shy of dwelling upon the matter; but 
of late she did not even try to banish it. Where 
was he? He crossed her path no more. Removed 
from her sight, like an object without bounds he 
was becoming dangerously sublime. He stood out 
alone. Only the memory of him trembled on and 
on and on. Though convinced of the player’s re- 
fined birth, however interiorly placed, the power of 
sentiment she well knew would be against her if 
she attempted a defence of him. 

And it may have been that something in Thesmi’s 
nature responded to the irregularity of the affair, — 
not so much from any romantic idea as from the 


THE TWO HOUSES 


107 


fact that when the ordinary rhythm becomes too 
commonplace, too customary, an irregularity is 
needed to surprise the soul and bring about higher 
issues. 

And then, as if to heighten the picture, the meet- 
ing with Ralph Allingham rose up before Thesmi. 
How ordinarily it had come about after all! And 
how interesting and animated he was! Then the 
absence of anything like commonplace conversation 
made him a desirable companion. Thesmi hoped 
she did not know all that there was to be known 
about him, that her mind had not compassed him 
already. That would be fatal to — what? How 
strangely her mind ran on! Ralph seemed already 
to become narrow, contracted in comparison with 
the player, who towered into her life as if part of 
it. And the whole thing swam before her as things 
swim in dreams. 


108 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER NINE. 

Ralph's Love For Thesmi. 

“ ‘The Abomination of Desolation, or that 
which makes desolate’, — is that system of 
thought which putting matter in the chief place, 
and making it the source, substance, and object 
of creation, abolishes God out of the universe 
and the Soul of man, and thus depriving exist- 
ence of its light and life makes it empty, deso- 
late and barren, a very abomination of desola- 
tion.” 

The haste with which Ralph Allingham returned 
the Gouled visit after his mother’s departure for 
England was surprising. Thesmi could not but 
admire his refinement and vigor — a combination 
unusual. His precision of expression and delivery, 
and his careful costuming, were noted. And he 
seemed to have brought with him an accelerated 
accession of buoyancy and compellingness. 

“That Indian guide, Miss Gouled,” he asked at 
his second visit, — “where is he to be found? You 
promised me to produce him when wanted. There 
is time yet for a good season of hunting and ex- 
ploring before the snow falls too heavily in the 
mountains. What a magnificent view you have of 
the Olympics from here! No wonder that you 
enthuse your visitors!” He swept his gaze along 
the jutting peaks, then pointed to the sky, colorless, 
yet with a splendid cool efiPect — a penetrability that 
bred far reaches in the soul. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


109 


“Oh,” replied Thesmi, at once warming to the 
subject, “wait until you see them from Hood’s 
Canal ! They are mysterious-looking, lonely, 
weird from there. Individual peaks rise tumultuous, 
like the rip of seas in a tide-way; they are inde- 
scribable from that point of view. And they have 
demons and legends and awful things for their 
dowers.” 

During the time that Thesmi was locating Kae- 
okuke, the guide, she was let rather deeply into the 
secrets of Ralph’s experiences. He accompanied 
her everywhere in her trips to the Indian camps. 

Ralph was an open champion of women and de- 
clared that the old idea that they had no initiative 
was absurd. But when he began to unfold half a 
dozen doctrines, and assumed, with something like 
condescension, that Thesmi, without demur, would 
accept his solution of the problems, even-poised as 
she was, she looked her resentment and the con- 
versation flagged. 

It was while Ralph spoke of the Two Women 
that this radical phase of his character was made 
manifest. Evidently he was an aggressive inves- 
tigator, yet not arrogantly so. 

“Those Women,” he told Thesmi, after relating 
his manner of meeting them, “ought to be lectur- 
ing for the benefit of their kind. They are excep- 
tionally endowed. And they certainly are very 
Western.” 

Thesmi looked horrified. The drastic measure 
proposed was peculiarly repugnant. Her Signa 
and Ishna platformed ! Lecturing in public ! They 
to leave the privacy of their little home and give 
out to the world, not yet ready to receive, all their 


110 


THE TWO HOUSES 


fine attainments ! Throw their powers, that which 
is spiritual, swift, that which has not always its 
path in blood-vessels and in nerves, like throwing 
pearls before swine, to a scoffing world! It was 
like transplanting delicate wild flowers from the 
fragrant shade of the leafy forest to the heat and 
glare of the shadowless plain. 

Of course Ralph knew nothing of Thesmi’s 
friendship with the Women^ and somehow she 
shrank from enlightening him, preferring that the 
subject should drop, and therefore merely re- 
marked, 

“There are often good, even remarkable people, 
where we least expect to find them.” 

But Ralph seemed bent upon pursuing the topic, 
and asseverated more strongly, , 

“You remember I mentioned this matter to you 
at our first meeting — a proposition I want to 
make to these Women. It is this : I will gladly pay 
all expenses of a lecturing tour, provided they will 
be guided wholly by me. I have already written 
to certain circles in London regarding them. It is 
strange that one should find such people here. But 
the Pacific Coast is a strong aurized locality, I un- 
derstand. The Women are so altogether original 
in their views and mode of life that they ougffi to 
be exploited. I don’t believe in hiding a light 
under a bushel.” 

Ralph discussed with equal aptitude woman’s 
progression and man’s superiority. And he could 
discourse upon all such topics the more readily that 
he never was at any time deeply overburdened with 
the responsibilities of life. He never hesitated in 
his views. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


111 


Thesmi thus astonishingly beset, felt that Ralph 
hadn’t a doubt about her acquiescing in his senten- 
tious setting forth of doctrines. She recalled 
previous conversations with Mrs. Allingham, in 
which Ralph’s spasmodic energies were deplored. 
But this was more than she had bargained for. It 
seemed to her as if her dearest privacy of thought 
was invaded at every turn. She sought nothing 
here but perhaps congeniality of tastes, refinement 
or culture, and instead she was bombarded with all 
sorts of dogmas she cared nothing about. For, 
though religious — deeply so — Thesmi was tenetless 
and creedless. 

More conversation followed, in which Ralph 
divulged that he thought the women ductile and 
that he could easily arrange matters with them 
regarding his pet scheme. 

At Ralph’s next visit to the Gouled home, he 
announced that the Two Women were no longer 
in the village. He could gain no information as to 
their whereabouts. Since the murder of the Aus- 
trian many of the shacks had been ordered removed 
by the City Council. The little home still stood 
intact, but silent and deserted, and no astuteness 
on his part could bring to light anything more than 
that the Women had disappeared as if from the 
face of the earth. 

In company with the mother of Callimachus, 
who had good qualities, and often their predomi- 
nant influence cleared her character from any haze 
of mental disarrangement, — Thesmi visited the 
village one evening. A funereal silence wrapped 
the little weather-beaten house, which seemed 
utterly deserted, as also was the one previously 


112 


THE TWO HOUSES 


occupied by Ernst. The gray breath of the sea 
swept over everything, and the gathering bands of 
darkness oppressed her as with a weight. 

Thesmi could hardly keep back the tears. A 
look of the deepest sadness passed over her face. 
It was as if she had suddenly become bereft of 
some part of the preciousness of life ; as if she 
might fail now to reflect the wiser and better life 
of the Women as she understood it by their con- 
duct. 

“The dirt! Miss Thesmi.” Sophy’s nose took on 
the tilt of the housekeeper’s. It was the first time 
she had been in the village, and the section they 
were passing through was one of the worst. “One 
has to admire your aunt’s scrubbing though a game 
of war goes on every hour of the day with it. But 
cleanliness isn’t all there is of housekeeping, any 
more than housekeeping is all there is of life.” 

The place had sometimes overwhelmed Thesmi 
with its sovereign poverty and wealth of sensuous 
beauty of mountain, sea and sky, but at Sophy’s 
remark the real sordidness of it all rose up before 
her. 

They were nearing home and Sophy had some- 
thing to say. She never trimmed her tales to suit 
others. She plunged boldly, fearlessly, confidently. 
“I suppose we’re all Ezras, Miss Thesmi, and have 
our visions in the night. I know I have mine. 
But what I want to tell you is that last night, after 
a dream, I awoke to find myself feeling exactly as 
I felt when a child, so fresh, so buoyant, so full of 
sweet blood that I marveled and am marveling yet. 
But no childhood feeling equalled what came over 
me it was all so delicious.” 


THE TWO HOUSES 


113 


It was not to be thought that such absurdities as 
Sophy's stories could be tolerated as relating to 
real life, but the unerring naturalness of the 
woman, her softly-alluring voice helped. 

Though the guide was found and ready for the 
trip, Ralph lingered around, on one pretext or 
another, visiting the Gouled home daily; ostensibly 
to confer with Mr. Gouled on business and the 
proposed trip, but it was obvious enough that 
finance and timber lands were matters of secondary 
import with the young Englishman, in whose strong, 
stirring nature, one that brooked no denial, that 
even could hardly understand such, another pas- 
sion was dominating everything else. 

Thesmi was an interested listener to the conver- 
sation between the two men regarding the Olympics. 

“They have borne the reputation of being in the 
mineral belt, and gold-bearing, although no con- 
certed, systematic effort has ever been made toward 
prospecting them.” Mr. Gouled's mind constantly 
ran on treasure. “The few men who have gone in 
have been satisfied that good ore was to be found, 
but the task is too arduous. There are hills easier 
to work, and a few weeks at the most are put in 
when the prospectors depart forever.” Mr. Gouled 
leaned close to his caller, saying in a confidential 
voice, “If you run across a placer, stake it out for 
me. Fd take a trip in there myself if I thought it 
wouldn’t be, as it always is, a streak of rotten luck.” 
He looked as if some old desire had suddenly 
returned with a bound and with uncontrollable 
force. “Do you hear, Allingham? If you find — ” 

“Fm not exactly going into the mountains pros- 
pecting for gold,” Ralph interrupted, wishing to 


114 


THE TWO HOUSES 


dispel his host’s delusion. I’m going in more for 
the novelty of the thing and the hunting, but if I 
should happen to run across such as you mention, I 
shall be delighted to accommodate you.” 

“Oh, Mr. Allingham, won’t you please find the 
Happy Valley for me — and stake it out? I shall 
go in some day and claim it. I don’t care anything 
about gold.” Thesmi’s face was aglow with 
enthusiasm, and her caller laughingly replied, 

“A Placer mine and a Happy Valley. Any more 
commissions ?” 

“You must take only the barest necessities with 
you.” Mr. Gouled took the floor again, ignoring 
Thesmi’s attempt to join in the conversation. “You 
and your guide will have to carry your all with 
you, and forty pounds are enough for an every- 
day pack.” 

“Oh, Mr. Allingham,” braved Thesmi again, 
“please bring me a few of the rare wild flowers 
that grow high in the snowy peaks. I have read 
about them, and the Indians have told ” 

“You will need blankets, flour, bacon, beans, cof- 
fee, tea, sugar, salt, pepper, frying pan, tin plates 
and cups.” Mr. Gouled contented himself with 
practical and essential details of the outing trip, 
and he seemed to be advising from old-time experi- 
ence. 

“Why, papa,” laughed Thesmi, “you talk just 
like an old miner, were you ever interested in ?” 

“There’s a story current of an old Californian 
miner who took a good sum of money from a 
placer in that region. That was before any settlers 
had come to Hood’s Canal. He came out intend- 
ing to return. Before his death he told of his log 


THE TWO HOUSES 


115 


cabin, where samples of rock would be found in 
one corner. But his workings were never found, 
though search was made. He covered his tracks 
too carefully before going south. That’s always 
the way — a good showing at first and then — bah!” 
There was such a note of bitterness and impatience 
in her father’s voice as he uttered the last words 
that Thesmi glanced quickly and apprehensively 
at him. She could not understand his moods of 
late. His fits of abstraction were becoming more 
and more frequent. Very soon, apparently en- 
tirely forgetful of his guest, he rose and left the 
room. 

Ralph, with well-bred oversight, immediately 
turned to Thesmi, and changed the disagreeable 
current by asking, 

“What was the Indian’s idea of the Happy 
Valley, Miss Gouled?” 

Thesmi wheeled her chair back a pace, for Ralph 
in his nearsightedness leaned very close. 

“Do you really care to hear about it?” She 
studied the aristocratic looking man before her. 
How deferential he was I Her own eyes fell be- 
fore his warm gaze as she covered her confusion 
by repeating her query. 

“I certainly do. Miss Gouled.” 

“It is said,” Thesmi began, “that there is a place 
in the fastnessess of the Olympic Mountains that 
looks like a vast amphitheatre with walls of stone. 
There is a large spot of apparently green sward, — 
oh, that was the reason I asked you to bring back 
some of the rare wild flowers — they do grow 
away up there in the bosom of the snows — deli- 
cate beauties.” 


116 


THE TWO HOUSES 


When Thesmi forgot herself in her subject, she 
lost all consciousness and became more charming 
every moment. She had a strain of child-like en- 
thusiasm, — a thing her father hated. “You poor 
weak thing,” he said to her one day, “I don't know 
what to call you.” 

“It is thought ” Thesmi shyly measured her 

companion’s interest, but the burning brown eyes 
reassured her, and she went on. “This amphi- 
theatre is the mouth of the crater from which 
belched forth the prehistoric fires. This would 
agree with the legend of the Valley. Every seven 
years, the story runs, the Indians, forgetting all 
warfare and enmity, journeyed to this spot. It was 
a common peaceful ground where all the tribes met. 
Every seven years, the length of the harvest moon, 
the braves and the young men engaged in every 

game of skill. Don’t you think, Mr. Allingham, 

that it is singular that the mountains should bear 
the name they do and have so much in common 
with the old Olympic games? When I listen to 
Althoth reading his Virgil, I see the old times en- 
acted again right here before me.” 

Thesmi dramatically pointed westward and con- 
tinued. 

“There were hot springs there in the Valley, too, 
it is said, and the warriors’ limbs became supple 
bathing in the waters. At one such meeting, the 
great Evil Spirit, Seatco, who they say holds sway 
in these awful wastes, rent the mountains asunder, 
and only a few of all the numerous bands assembled 
there were left to tell the tale. The Indians today 
still refuse to enter certain localities in the range. 
So, Mr. Allingham, be prepared,” 


THE TWO HOUSES 


117 


“I shall certainly keep out of the evil Seatco^s 
path, Miss Gouled.” Ralph bent far forward as he 
spoke, and in a low voice said “And the flowers — 
if I find them, shall that be a guerdon ?” 

Mr. Gouled had entered the room in time to hear 
the remark about the demon Seatco. A quick, 
pleased look shot from his eyes as he noted the 
lover-like attitude of his client. Thesmi, glancing 
up, flamed to the brow with sudden anger at her 
father’s unequivocal approval of what he evidently 
deemed love-making on her part as well as Ralph’s. 
She looked first at the one and then at the other 
and a look of disdain, mixed with perplexity, 
crossed her face. Why should her father betray 
such satisfaction at the Englishman’s evident ad- 
miration? There was something, though no definite 
thing occurred to her, to account for the irritation 
that annoyed and repelled her. The old footing 
with her father, of aloofness and neglect, was much 
more bearable than this. 

“You’ll find enough to do to keep out of the path 
of avalanches, and from falling over precipices into 
narrow channels hundreds of feet below, where the 
waters boil and roar. Thesmi’s demons don’t 
amount to much in comparison with the dangers 
you’ll be obliged to tuzzle with.” Mark Gouled’s 
tone was genial, even jovial. And again Thesmi 
looked her annoyance at her father’s unusual 
suavity. 

On the pretence of attending to Althoth, Thesmi, 
no longer unable to repress her feelings, left the 
room and did not return. 

The next morning, Ralph made an early call, an- 


118 


THE TWO HOUSES 


nouncing his intention of starting for the moun- 
tains that day. 

After Ralph’s departure, Mr. Gouled turned to 
his daughter with great confidence, saying, 

“You’re a lucky girl — the luckiest girl in Seattle. 
One of the wealthiest men in England is at your 
feet.” Then he emphasized, “See that you prop- 
erly appreciate the honor!” Almost immediately 
he dropped into abstraction, — a mood which was 
becoming more frequent of late — and as if he had 
forgotten her presence, he mumbled, “This could 
not be better if it had been made to order. There 
may be a little clash of opinion between us — ^}^ou’re 
so devilish straight in your own opinions — but there 
would come a resumption of the old-time relations. 
All shall yet be well. The day must be saved.” 

The latter part of the soliloquy caught Thesmi’s 
ear. In a voice vibrant with a suspicion she could 
not name, she asked, sharply for her. 

“What shall yet be well? What do you mean 
by ‘saving the day ?’ ” But her voice immediately 
softened when she looked at her father. All 
bravado had left him. He seemed on the verge of 
demoralization. His head was bowed ; he stumbled 
in his movements as he walked out of the room. 

“Are you in trouble, papa? Please let me help 
you. You know I would do anything in the world 
to make you happy.” 

“Would you — will you? Promise Pshaw! 

What am I thinking about? All will be well. 
Things will take their natural course.” 

Thesmi’s eyes filled with tears. She knew that 
he needed her. Her love for him was great but 
sometimes she doubted whether he realized that 


THE TWO HOUSES 


119 


she did love him so deeply, for she knew that at 
times her manner was curt and cold and apt to 
keep people at bay. And then his changed appear- 
ance! It wrung her heart. 

In an incredibly short time, it seemed to Thesmi, 
Ralph returned from his excursion. 

“Oh,’’ he cried enthusiastically when Mr. Gouled 
in a spirit of banter joked him about his short stay 
in the mountains, “this has been only a preliminary 
jaunt. Don’t for a moment imagine that I am 
through with the Olympics. What really hastened 
my return was my wish to discharge my part of 
the contract — I was enabled to fulfil my commis- 
sions beyond my expectations. This is yours, Mr. 
Gouled, on paper, as you see — the placer without 
a doubt,”’ and he handed over a roughly sketched 
map with abundant notes. “I ran across that the 
first thing. But the other commission, ah, you 
know, was what really brought me out so soon. 
Here are your flowers. Miss Gouled, wilted — which 

I hope is not to be typical of ” A warm light 

shone in his eyes as he walked over to the window 
where Thesmi sat busily disengaging memoranda 
and data of first editions of the classics from a 
conglomeration of other notes which she had taken 
from Althoth’s fretted hand that morning. Ralph 
handed her the carefully arranged and wrapped 
blossoms, delicately colored, fragile and almost un- 
earthly, it seemed, in their unlikeness to the ordin- 
ary flora. 

“Ralph — Mr. Allingham,” Thesmi caught herself 
hastily, thrown off her guard by the sight of the 
flowers. 

“Oh, please, let that stand. Let it be Ralph, 


120 


THE TWO HOUSES 


won’t you ?” It was almost impossible to withstand 
that soft voice of his. 

“And you hastened back — gave up your trip — 
to bring these?” Thesmi glanced shyly at the 
handsome man standing so pleadingly before her. 
“You found them, didn’t you, high up in ?” 

“Mr. Allingham,” broke in Mr. Gouled, amputat- 
ing his daughter’s query, “never mind Thesmi and 
her bouquet just now; there will be time enough 
to tell her all particulars later. What I want to 
know is did you see the gold ?” 

Ralph turned reluctantly, but entered at once 
upon the elucidating task of describing the spot 
where was found the float. 

“There is not a question, Mr. Gouled, of gold 
being found in the Olympic Mountains. Why, my 
guide, while crossing a small overflow of a stream, 
stooped and picked up from the brown broken rock 
good specimens — ore showing in paying quantities. 
I saw the same kind of rock exactly being bartered 
up in British Columbia. It was at a general store. 
Three or four Indians came in to trade it for to- 
bacco. They wouldn’t tell where it came from. 
After the Indians left, a young man, evidently a 
prospector, inquired who the Indians were and 
where they camped. He avowed his intention of 
finding out, at all hazards, where that gold-bearing 
rock came from. But the placer in question ran 
right up against me, it was so easily found. I hope, 
Mr. Gouled, you will have the same good luck in 
locating it .a second time. I blazed some trees 
around the place, and shall explain the map to you 
at your leisure. Another thing, — I was fortunately 
alone at the time of the discovery, having left 


THE TWO HOUSES 


121 


Kaeokuke hastily in pursuit of a deer, so it is safe 
for the present. I finished the survey of the ground 
before the guide joined me, and then immediately 
left the place.” 

“You saw the gold?” Gouled reiterated the 
monotonous query, absent-eyed and preoccupied. 

“Yes, and here it is. I stopped to drink and the 
yellow gleam caught my eye. And talk about wild- 
ness and beauty and all that sort ” 

“Never mind that,” Mr. Gouled waived, for he 
was on a footing now of unceremonious friendship 
with Ralph. “Was it a stream?” 

“Yes,” Ralph answered, indicating with his index 
finger a spot on the map, “a shallow stream at the 
foot of a waterfall. Hundreds of such streams 
flow down the side of the mountain. In this in- 
stance, the water in its course swirled around a 
large boulder, scooping out the earth all about — a 
huge cup and saucer — exposing the gold as the 
water eddied. I hardly see how you can miss it 
with the directions I have given, — that is when 
you are ready to look it up. But I wouldn’t advise 
you to go in as late in the season as this.” 

Thesmi had an uncomfortable knowledge of her 
father’s sordidness, its evil effect upon him. He 
seemed stirred but to listen to the tale of the placer. 
It was as if some old desire had suddenly returned 
with a bound, with uncontrollable force; as if the 
passion of his soul revived. 

“You may be sure. Miss Gouled, I recalled your 
weird tales about those dreadful solitudes,” Ralph 
frankly said as Mr. Gouled, mumbling to himself, 
left them once more alone. “I felt at times as if 
I had no part in the solemn, remote, lonely heights, 


122 


THE TWO HOUSES 


as if I were an intruder. It certainly would seem 
as if the Indian’s god, Seatco, had endowed them 
with a demoniacal atmosphere. And then again the 
contrast — the absolute divinity of some spots — the 
rarity ! The real story has yet to be told of that 
vast silent land.” 

Thesmi’s approving smile, called forth by his 
laudation of her mountains, shot fire into the 
man’s soul, and he jealously prolonged the conver- 
sation. It was as plain as day that even the 
banalities of talk were a mere pretext. In this 
affair of the heart, which was the first he yielded 
tenderly, unreservedly. And he became at once 
fascinating and masterful. For all his smattering 
of the scientific problems of life, he was as simple 
as a boy in his ardent admiration. His manner 
betrayed his impluse to declare at once his love 
for the girl ; but the habit of convention, a certain 
inarticulate sense of uhtimeliness, seemed to arrest 
him. 

Thesmi’s eyes fell more than once under the 
warmth of his brown ones bent to meet her own. 
It was evident that his emotions, the very heart of 
his being, were stirred to their depths. Yet, while 
his personality, tact, and cultivated mind made him 
almost irresistible, yet there was some hindrance 
to Cupid.’s wireless. No little wavelets pulsated 
through the air from heart to heart. 

In a dull uncomprehension Thesmi measured the 
man before her, not clearly, but yet with a fatal 
fixedness. He became narrow, contracted, — and 
this by comparison of loftiness — loftiness of a waif 
of the slums, an unknown, who had crossed her 


THE TWO HOUSES 123 

path and who had apparently passed out of sight 
for ever. 

And Thesmi could not be false to the light that 
was in her. 

Yet the man before her — his passion trembled 
exceedingly. He towered above her in his strong 
manhood, for he had risen and stood close by her 
chair. 

It was with a gesture of relief that Thesmi 
turned to answer her father, who abruptly entered 
the room, calling, 

“Thesmi, find Kaeokuke for me; Fm going into 
the mountains at once. Ah, Mr. Allingham, we 
will look over that map again. Let me jot down 
every little point so that no time may be lost. I 
must get away from here anyway. As well hide 
there as ” The latter part of the talk was al- 

most inaudible, but the half-stupid man rallied and 
took up the map and began mechanically tracing 
with trembling finger the dotted lines. 


124 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER TEN. 

Thesmi and Ralph On the Way to Arcady. 

Thesmi regretted exceedingly her father’s de- 
parture in his peculiar mental condition; she had 
hardly believed that the money-crazed man was in 
earnest about going. He left without giving any 
other notice whatever, and apparently without the 
adequate necessities for such a trip. 

“He hasn’t even taken his outing suit, let alone 
the other things laid out for him ; he has the busi- 
ness suit he’s wearing.” Aunt Meg flung open Al- 
thoth’s door to enlarge upon this matter to Thesmi, 
who left her charge and followed her aunt to her 
father’s room, where all the outing paraphernalia 
lay undisturbed. As if it was aa epoch-making 
event in the Gouled home. Aunt Meg continued to 
rail against the flight in unsubdued tones. 

Ralph had gone to Vancouver the morning of 
Gouled’s disappearance. Mail and other matters 
■attended to, he expected to return to Seattle with- 
out delay. 

Glad to escape for a time her aunt’s acute dis- 
temper over her brother’s manner of leaving home, 
Thesmi, one evening, climbed the stairs to her den 
— as Jacob his Celestial Ladder of Dreams. She 
spent far less time here than formerly; both on ac- 
count of the time given over to Althoth, and also 
from a feeling of indifference to much that she was 
wont to cherish. Her violin remained mute, and 
she no longer went here and there in the little 


THE TWO HOUSES 


125 


chapel touching and arranging the quaint and beau- 
tiful articles of her selective choice — and all seem- 
ing a part of her, more harmonious by far than the 
rest of the desperate home. 

Thesmi had more than once been aware of hear- 
ing, in the pure atmosphere of her den, a low 
tremulous melody, haunting in its sweetness. At 
first she imagined that it must be the congested 
blood singing in her ears — or some echo delayed 
on the way making itself known. But it was there. 
It was insistent, as if it was a message, if she would 
but listen. In the silence it came, as a player re- 
sponds to an encore — a recall. 

And with this always came surging up all that 
she remembered about Signa and Ishna. She had 
made no special effort to locate them, not knowing 
whither to turn and hoping day by day that she 
would learn something about their whereabouts. 
She felt strangely bereft of something that had 
helped to sustain a certain altitude of her being. 
How much she had learned to lean on them was 
shown by this laxness on her part — as if a prop had 
suddenly been withdrawn. 

How had they, Thesmi asked herself, maintained 
their high spiritual atmosphere — that in which they 
had constantly lived? And it w'as this, she knew, 
and the consciousness of it, that made them what 
they were ; that enabled them to impart peace and 
help to all those coming in contact with them. 
They were swift spiritual diagnosticians — guard- 
ians of the spirituality of those around them ; per- 
haps appointed to help keep the truth alive. 

But Thesmi knew she was no saint as yet, she 
had her own longings, her temptations to fight. 


126 


THE TWO HOUSES 


She had dallied of late, she knew, — played with fire, 
perhaps. Whether she held herself blameworthy 
or not, something, she knew, had crept over her 
senses of late — something that lurked in pockets in 
some under strata of her being. 

At times it looked like a sort of recklessness on 
Thesmi’s part. There was little use in denying 
that she had hoped against hope that she would, in 
some way, find her player, him of the high note, 
under more favorable auspices. But since that 
night at the theatre, he was seen no more. With 
many shy tremors she had surreptitiously found 
out that he no longer occupied the hut on 
the water’s edge; he had not been seen around 
Seattle at all for some time. 

What a curious blank in her life all at once ! And 
now even her father seemed in some way to have 
dropped away from her. Well was it that there 
was one ready and willing to fill in the gap. It 
looked a little as if they, one and all, had made w^ay 
for the man from England. 

Even Aunt Meg, for some reason, not quite 
obvious to Thesmi, was blandness itself during 
Ralph’s visits. The household was more harmoni- 
ous than Thesmi had ever known it to be. Of 
course it was only a temporary lull in the storm — 
as her late outburst over her brother proved, — but 
half a loaf is better than none, and the short respite 
was agreeable enough. 

It was only when Aunt Meg’s satisfaction be- 
came too evident over what she termed Thesmi’s 
“acting at last like other people,” that the old fric- 
tion began again. This was hard to bear. It was 
more what wlas implied than what was actually 


THE TWO HOUSES 


127 


said — perhaps the shoe fitted too well. At any rate, 
Thesmi saw to it that very few confidences passed 
between them on the score of the Allinghams, for, 
at the very opening of the English affair, Aunt Meg 
had chosen to air her belief that the old country 
housekeepers were an over-praised lot, and de- 
clared her intention of visiting Thesmi in England 
on purpose to acquaint herself with the real merits 
of the case. After which a dry silence ensued be- 
tween them. 

“The old crocodile. Miss Thesmi, she bows and 
smiles when your gentleman friend’s around and 
the instant his back’s turned the kitchen catches it !” 

Sophy’s remarks and retailings always made for 
ease and friendliness — the basis of all good man- 
ners. In her scrimmages with the housekeeper there 
would come from her tongue words with the snap 
of a coiled spring and there would be a little harm- 
less malice in her eyes, but never with Thesmi. 

“I shall really regret. Miss Gouled, being instru- 
mental in locating the mine if your father’s going 
into the mountains is to prove such a source of 
uneasiness to you.” Ralph had learned on his ar- 
rival at the Gouled home of the mysterious going 
away of Mr. Gouled, and his distress was very 
evident on the family’s account. 

Ralph rose and stood by Thesmi at the window, 
looking into her face in fine sympathy. “Listen to 
me,” he continued. “Let us go today to the Indian 
camp and find another guide. We shall hasten 
after your father ancf bring him safe home. Your 
knowledge of the Indian tongue will facilitate 
matters, or I should go alone and not give you 
unnecessary trouble. I should have difficulty in 


128 


THE TWO HOUSES 


choosing a guide as experienced as Kaeokuke ; I in- 
tend in the future to class him among my best 
friends. Shall we go now?” 

“How can I thank you ? But, no, Mr. Allingham, 
I could not allow that. And if the placer is, as you 
say, not too remote from all help, and compara- 
tively easy of access, I shall lay aside all worry in 
the matter. Only, I do so wish that I could have 
seen Kaeokuke before they left. I know how faith- 
ful and efficient he is, but papa of late has been 

so ” Thesmi caught herself, and, coloring 

slightly, took up her hemstitching and seated her- 
self, bending low over the work. “You are so 
good to me, so indulgent. I haven’t been accus- 
tomed to such deference, to be consulted in this 
way; and, yes — I like it; but it is new to me.” 

“Not deferred to. Miss Gouled?” Ralph 
hastened to take up — and there was alw'ays an in- 
flection in his voice that asked for more. “How 
could anyone ? 

“What part of your letter, Mr. Allingham,” as 
hastily returned Thesmi, parrying his sympathy, 
“is it that you are to read to me? Something 
mysterious, you hinted, was in store for me. May 
I hear it now?” 

“Miss Gouled, this is conditional — there is a let- 
ter on the way to you from England. If I read a 
part of my letter to you, you promise, don’t you, 
to read a part of your letter to me. It is a bar- 
gain, isn’t it?” Ralph was simply speaking in a 
spirit of banter. He had moved his chair, as usual, 
very close to Thesmi’s — and she looked as if she 
thought his ingenuous nearsightedness was an ac- 
commodating deceit — he was so desirous of looking 


THE TWO HOUSES 


129 


closely at the wholesome Western girl — looking from 
time to time into her eyes. Not that any pose of 
manner of his ever annoyed Thesmi — that would 
have been impossible, fastidious as she was in some 
respects, even to severity. But today he could not 
take his eyes off her. She wore a black lacey 
dress, cut tastefully square at the throat, which, 
white as milk, contrasted delicately with the pale 
rose of her cheeks. She was a study in black, 
down to the dapper bows on her patent slippers. 

It would have been a cold nature indeed that 
could have resisted the atmosphere of love and 
worship — hardly a human one — that the English- 
man brought to Thesmi. And more than that, he 
had a peculiar power in the matter of contact with 
the other sex — and that not in any sense whatever 
of conscious, deliberate putting forth — a natural, 
sane, resistless force within the man that was con- 
tagious, that carried all before it. And he paid 
such court to this girl as he never had paid to any 
one before. 

As he unfolded his mother’s letter in his totally 
unembarrassed refined manner, Thesmi looked at 
him with more admiration than was her wont. 

“Ah, here it is,” he said in his incurable English 
voice as he ran his eyes down the page, and he 
read : 

“ T have often wondered if Miss Gouled’s mid- 
night Beethoven still practises his divine numbers 
down in that squalid quarter where we landed that 
moonlight night. Somehow the scene has haunted 
me ; I find myself dwelling upon it and asking my- 
self who the man could be. Ask her, my darling 
boy, if she remembers or if it has been her good 


130 


THE TWO HOUSES 


fortune to have heard him again. Of course the 
player must have been — could have been nothing 
else than of a very low> order of society, — there are 
no wandering 'minstrels now-a-days, or I should be 
tempted to think he was some refugee. Zacho, the 
boatman called him, and said he played in concert 
halls, and sometimes starved. How dreadful !’ 

“It is a little singular that the Mater should pic- 
ture this so pointedly, critical in music as she is. 
The player must have been extraordinarily gifted to 
call out her enthusiasm so markedly. Were you 
as deeply impressed with the performance as she 
was, Miss Gouled? Of course you were.” Ralph 
asked the question and answered it in the same 
breath. 

Ralph was not obtuse, by any means. Yet if he 
had not been living in the dazzle of the heights he 
occupied, which blinded him to some things, he 
must have noticed the deep flush that swept the 
girl’s cheeks for an instant and the hasty bending 
of the head over the unimportant work in her nerv- 
ous hands. 

Usually, when Thesmi betrayed little interest in 
a subject, Ralph cunningly dropped it, arguing 
with himself that if a woman’s interest flags in 
what a man is saying, it is not an encouraging sign, 
but he seemed bent upon pursuing the topic. 

“Zacho,” he repeated, settling his glasses be- 
tween his eyes and drawing his brows together, 
“Zacho: it is a good Danish name. I should like 
to look him up. Are there any more budding 
geniuses down in that altogether unusual locality. 
Miss Gouled?” 

Ralph’s tone, though not consciously sneering in 


THE TWO HOUSES 131 

the least, nettled Thesmi against her will, and she 
answered rather frigidly, 

“I am not aw^are of any. But the place has 
proved a shelter to many, I am sure; perhaps to 
better people than we dream off. Havens are not 
so plentiful in this world, and we should at least 
respect them.” 

“How very loyal you are. Miss Gouled! Place 
me on your list, won’t you?” 

Unconsciously the man had struck the woman’s 
keynote — loyalty. 

Thesmi never could adapt herself to the easy 
commonplaces of society, and as Ralph rarely in- 
dulged in them, the conversation between the two 
was usually sprightly and full of naive sentiment, 
and soon they were decidedly en rapport again. 

Ralph was never oppressed by his opinions, 
ardently dealt wjith as they were, and the slight 
repugnance Thesmi evinced at their first meeting, 
on account of his radical views, gave way before 
the strength of the man’s magnificent physical tem- 
perament. During his first visit it had been a relief 
sometimes to leave him in her father’s care, but 
now she listened with interest to all he said. Her 
life seemed at overflow, almost, with this strong 
man at her command. And it was all becoming 
seductive and delightful. There was a thrill about 
this which was new to Thesmi, a tang of excite- 
ment, a touch of powter. A new element had en- 
tered her life, a vital one. 

Despite Ralph’s vast wealth and high social posi- 
tion, there was no boring stateliness, no proud for- 
malities at any time in his intercourse with the 
family, nothing to pall on Thesmi’s independent 


132 


THE TWO HOUSES 


spirit or chill her growing fondness for his society. 
Perhaps he was wiser than he knew, as money or 
position held no attractions for her, weighed not a 
grain in his favor, with her. 

Under the pretext of turning to the light, Thesmi 
made the old backing maneuver with her chair, 
drawing away quietly from her brown-eyed 
vis-a-vis. 

“Oh, Miss Gouled — Daphne — why keep me, like 
Apollo, pursuing forever? Move your chair where 
you will, I shall follow, be assured. And even as 
Daphne lured with her shyness, the farther you 
flee from me the more you charm me. You defeat 
your own ends. Love makes the world go round, 
it is said. Love it must be that keeps me veering 
round your chair.” And then Ralph laughed as 
only one can laugh who has abundant leisure and 
who is bubbling over with happiness. His humor 
was contagious, and Thesmi' joined merrily in, an- 
swering back in his own vein, 

“If I am Daphne, Mr. Allingham, you must 

know that she hated the thought of ” A blush 

tinged the speaking face of the girl as she checked 
her hasty word. 

“But we must progress, Miss Gouled, — Daphne. 
We must improve on the old order of things. A 
warm, lovely woman to fall upon such a fate! 
Even allowing that she keeps green forever ! 
Rather let her sink her identity in a strong 

man’s ” Ralph suddenly broke off and began 

repeating the name “Daphne, Daphne,” as if a 
thought had suddenly occurred to him. “If it is 
not against conventional usage. Miss Gouled, that 
is going to be my name for you henceforth. But 


THE TWO HOUSES 


133 


the ending of the story about Daphne — my Daphne 
must be, shall be, wholly different from the horrid 
old tale. We of today, though human, are superior 
in some respects to the old powers — stronger in our 
determination to gain our desires, not so easily 
foiled as was even Appollo.” Ralph spoke as if 
he was bent upon letting it be understood that he 
was actuated in saying this by a distinct purpose. 
Yet his hesitancy to bring about a too crisp snap of 
events drew Thesmi to him more than any pre- 
cipitate measure could have done. 

He looked as if he was tasting some kind of bliss 
as he bent forward to look at her — perhaps it was 
perfect bliss, if so he could go no farther. And 
they both looked as if something good to eat had 
been proffered them. 

Although Thesmi fell daily more and more under 
the spell of Ralph’s virile, elementary power, yet 
when it came to making a confidant of him — in the 
sense of touching upon her ideals, whether whole, 
broken or mended, but dear to her; when it came 
to touch upon complex needs — she felt that it was 
not the thing to do. He would listen in his very 
high-bred way, she knew, if she put him to the 
test, and assure her of his willingness to do any- 
thing that lay in his power; but that was just it: 
what did lie in his power where she was concerned ? 
Evidence enough had already been shown of his 
power to reach a certain level in her being — and 
sometimes his warmth shamed her from her 
parsimonious frugality of passion. Perhaps, full- 
pulsed as he was, she feared the attraction that was 
drawing her to him. 

At his next visit, Ralph handed Thesmi her Eng- 


134 


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lish letter. Asking to be excused, she opened it in 
his presence. As she read, it became very evident 
that mother and son had exchanged confidences, 
and every line breathed the mother’s Solicitude over 
her son’s hopes and his future plans. With her 
usual warm daintiness, Mrs. Allingham wrote, in 
somewhat veiled language it is true, that the finer 
touches to her son’s nature could be given only by 
a different temperament from her own ; and she 
hoped — believed — that that one had been found. 
The letter closed with the loving command that 
both her children come to her soon — it could not 
be any too soon for her. 

Smart tears filled the girl’s eyes at the signature 
—“Mother.” 

Ralph’s voice grew deep and tender as he wit- 
nessed Thesmi’s emotion. He had intended to de- 
mand, according to the agreement, the reading of a 
part of her letter. As if he divined the cause of 
her distress, he asked, 

“Have you ever considered, — Daphne, — how 
many of God’s women are enlisted in the service 
of one man from his cradle to his grave? A 
mother, a sweetheart, a sister, a friend, perhaps. 
Then just try and think of me and my supreme 

good fortune — a mother like mine ; a ” Ralph 

looked at his young hostess for encouragement, 
but she seemed not to have heard him. Her eyes 
had a detached look, and a slight inclination of the 
head gave the impression that she was listening. 
Evidently a train of thought distant from all this 
had been set in motion. 

People began to say that Thesmi would marry 
Ralph Allingham, and those of her acquaintance 


THE TWO HOUSES 


135 


envied her. It certainly looked as if she was be- 
coming more like the ordinary young person, after 
all — and she had hitherto eschewed the regular 
order. Her eyes had begun to take on that new 
look which always comes with the unfolding of the 
old mystery. With a tension that betrayed itself 
in flushed cheeks and shining eyes — and for some 
reason she hated scarlet cheeks and glistening eyes 
— she waited now for Ralph’s coming. 

Thesmi and Ralph were down at the water- 
front watching the Indians congregated on Ballast 
Island. This was formed from ballast thrown from 
ships coming to Seattle for lumber. It jutted out 
into the bay and was a common stopping place for 
the Indians on their way to and from the hop- 
fields. Many of the hop-pickers came hundreds of 
miles from the far north, and every camp and vil- 
lage furnished its quota; consequently it was no 
unusual thing to see hundreds of canoes at a time, 
some of them mighty in their dimensions, rocking 
in the bay. 

^T never miss coming to see them,” Thesmi said 
to Ralph. “See that dear little papoose in that long 
dugout! Oh, they have it wrapped in some nice 
new flannel — a fine quality, too. The Indians love 
their children dearly. See the old squaw oiling 
and smoothing it down ! There, now, she lays it in 
its mother’s arms !” Thesmi was so engrossed with 
the little household in the canoe that she did not 
notice any one near. 

“I wouldn’t have missed the sight for a good 
deal. How much I am indebted to you for seeing 
all the Western sights !” Ralph bent lover-like over 
his companion and added in a low voice, “Some 


136 


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day, — Daphne, — Fm not taking liberties, — say I 
am not/’ In a whim of archness, she did not cut 
him off, as usual, but permitted him to continue. 
“Some day, when you come over to England, I 
hope to return the ” 

Thesmi suddenly drew back and a little aston- 
ished cry escaped her — “Signal Oh, Mr. Ailing- 
ham, look!” 

It was Signa, arrested evidently by the sight of 
Thesmi and Ralph, on her way up from the beach. 
It looked as if she had come across from some- 
where, for Ernst was moving a small sail-boat. 
A look of pained surprise, sorrow and pity crossed 
her reposeful face as she stood quite still, — perhaps 
the look that He wore in the temple scene, when, 
urged to censure. He said only, “Neither do I con- 
demn thee ; go and sin no more 1” 

“Oh, Mr. Allingham, Signa never looked at me 
in that way before.” And the distressed girl 
shrank a little behind her companion as though 
some guilt was attached to her. 


The two houses 


13 ? 


CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

A New Set of Troubles for Thesmi. 

“Mary brings us to Jesus” 

In her pleasure and surprise at seeing Signa, 
Thesmi forgot all about Ralph’s ignorance of their 
acquaintanceship. He directed his glance as 
Thesmi indicated, and in turn uttered a note of 
surprise. 

“It is — why, yes, — it is, one of the ladies of that 
curious district. I shall be happy to resume 


“Excuse me just a moment,” Thesmi hastened 
forward, crying out with a nervous catch in her 
voice, “Oh, Signa!” and offered both her hands 
which the other took and held as if she could not 
let them go. “Oh, Signa!” the girl cried again, 
“where have you kept yourself all this time? Why 
did you leave without telling me? Oh, I have 
missed you ; I need you. Is Ishna well ? Where do 
you live?” The impulsive girl gave no time to 
cohesion of thought or anything else, only that her 
helping friend was found again. 

Ralph came forward, shaking hands with Signa 
warmly and with much respect of manner, ex- 
pressed a hope that they should become better ac- 
quainted in the future. “I have been a more dis- 
creet young man since that short tarry under your 
care,” he blandly assured her as he assisted her over 
the rough ground. “I haven’t the least doubt but 


138 


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that you could convert me to much of your way of 
living if we had more frequent intercourse.” Turn- 
ing to Thesmi, he said, “I have never told you all, 
Daphne. Some unusual confidences passed be- 
tween your friends and myself. And, by-the-by 
you never told me about this friendship. I begin 
to think that you prefer a little mystery placed 
around everything out here in this new country. 
At all events, I am not likely to forget what I 
heard and saw at that time, and hail this meeting 
with pleasure.” 

When pressed for answer as to where she lived, 
Signa admitted having moved across the bay, but 
hinted that they were not settled. It was merely 
a temporary home and they contemplated a change 
soon. She would inform them, if expedient, where 
to find her. 

“We shall be delighted to find you — shall we not. 
Daphne ?” and Ralph drew the girl to his side. 

At the endearing term “Daphne” and the pro- 
prietary gesture, Signa bent her head as if in prayer 
and did not look up until Thesmi burst in on her 
revery. 

“I must visit with you, Signa. You must not — 
cannot, — keep me away from you. When may I 
come? When shall I see you again?” The coax- 
ing voice was hard to withstand. And Thesmi so 
seldom yielded to her emotions. 

“You shall see me. Little One, soon again. We 
are with you always.” Signa bent to the girl’s 
face. “You will not be false to the inner light, that 
which is within you. You will remember.” There 
was an understanding silence. Signa made way for 
the jostling crowd around them, and when the gap 


THE TWO HOUSES 


139 


had closed over she had disappeared, as if off the 
face of the earth, leaving Thesmi vaguely wonder- 
ing. It was as if some divine thing in Signa had 
been aroused for the needs of the girl’s soul. 

Thesmi listened in silence to the eulogistic terms 
bestowed on the Women by Ralph, who had ap- 
parently taken no notice of the interplay between 
her and Signa. And even if he had it would not 
have mattered, as he could not be brought to 
imagine any cloud appearing to mar his happiness. 
He could form, he said, no estimate of their faith, 
and the Women themselves would have been im- 
possible in a previous generation, but at this day 
they were unquestionably a stimulating number. 
The problem of human progress engaging us today 
could be furthered only by just such special individ- 
ual effort. 

Short as had been the meeting with Signa, Thes- 
mi took on the look of one to whom had been im- 
parted, in some divine way, counsel of much 
moment. 

She did not know that this derelict passion she 
was harboring was a menace — and it was not out 
of the regular course of life at all. And the danger 
was even greater that, like a submerged rock that 
could be seen only in daylight in clear weather, that 
hardly rose above the water, hitherto her heritage 
of that in common with the all had been also sub- 
merged only. 

But if Signa had entered into a conspiracy to 
bring about a return of Thesmi’s real self, she could 
not have done better — for a time at least. The 
chance meeting brought to view Signa’s instant 
comprehension of Thesmi’s relationship with Ralph 


i40 


THE TWO HOUSES 


and her subtle reproach bearing on it. And none 
knew better than Thesmi the justness and exact- 
ness of the Women's appraisements. It was as if 
Signa had instantly assayed at their true value her 
feelings for Ralph, — a thing that she had not yet 
done for herself. Instead of that she had turned 
away from what she did not care to see reflected 
in the mirror of truth — that which lay hid deep 
down in a corner of her heart. And whether it was 
fancy or not, the notion that Signa’s eyes conveyed 
reproach on account of her relationship with Ralph, 
remained with her for days. And in her Den, 
sometimes she trembled at the rush of conflicting 
emotions that assailed her, wondering if she had 
lost control of the centres of her being altogether. 

But for all these qualms of her better nature, it 
was not long before Thesmi left off being concerned 
about Signa’s look, the entreating soundless song 
in her Den, or anything else that interfered with 
her will, and yielded to the fascination of the man’s 
eyes, and insinuating personality. She was willing, 
apparently, to sell her birthright for a mess of 
pottage, without further ado. 

A few days later Ralph announced that it would 
be absolutely necessary for him to return to Eng- 
land for a short time. 

“It is not a matter of choice, but strictly obliga- 
tory,” Ralph told Thesmi, watching her threading 
her needle. “So great is the renown of your North- 
west already, I was commissioned to look over the 
ground in the interest of an Order — object, colon- 
ization. Letters received today announce that the 
land has been secured — it is marvelous with what 
celerity immense land holdings are transferred here 


THE TWO HOUSES 


141 


— I had not supposed it possible for the transaction 
to go through for months. It would have been 
quite possible for me to make other arrangements, 
whereby this journey could have been avoided at 
this time, had I not, quite recently, invested, under 
the urgency of your father, in another timber deal, 
which, in your parlance, left me — stranded, — that 
is, for the present. The Mater and myself shall 
never be able to repay him for his disinterested 
measures on our behalf. His kindness exceeds all 
business obligations.’^ 

It was a little hard for Thesmi to understand 
why all this should carry with it such imperative- 
ness. And she could only wonder at the man be- 
fore her and how largely he abounded in enter- 
prises. But she said nothing, for when he sought 
to disclose his plans, he could always furnish a 
plausible theory for their being. 

And she presented a picture at once of com- 
placency and disturbance at learning that he would 
soon leave her. She looked as if, though her cheeks 
burned of late at his touch, the respite of his ab- 
sence would not be altogether unwelcome. But she 
began to realize the tenuity of her infatuation by 
the fever of her heart at the thought of his ab- 
sence. The hateful smirch, perhaps, of some old 
unsatisfied desire clinging to her, like the smirch of 
the gold which King Midas sought and obtained, 
and which made life unbearable. To have the 
plague removed. King Midas had to have recourse 
to the gods again ; — and so perhaps would she. 

The two were together every available moment 
the last few days before he left. Even Aunt Meg, 
laudatory as she was of the English wooer, haled 


142 


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Thesmi into court, as it were, every night before re- 
tiring; descanting upon the way young people of 
this generation allowed themselves liberties. But 
the high toss of Thesmi’s head upon these occasions 
showed that she would do what it pleased her to do. 

It was early evening when Ralph paid his last 
visit to the Gouled home. Thesmi came from 
Althoth’s bedside to greet him. She held up an 
empty vial, telling him she must have a prescription 
filled immediately as the sufferer had been un- 
usually restless all that day. 

“You know, we Western girls can do for our- 
selves what would in England pass for boldness. 
I was just on the eve of going alone, hoping to be 
back before your arrival. Our city is as yet too 
young to make it unsafe or unpleasant for women 
to go out alone at night.” 

Despite this rather independent announcement, 
Thesmi, as they threaded their way down town to 
the drug store, dropped much of her usual capric- 
ious parrying of her escort’s attentions and simply 
intoxicated him with her naive abandon. 

Clasping her arm closer, he whispered, “This 
shall be the way, shall it not. Daphne, — all through 
life, hand in hand together?” 

The wet, warm evening, hinting more of the 
balmy Chinook wind from the coast breaking 
through April, than of the late autumn, the physi- 
cally perfect man, virile, compelling, with his fine 
esteem of himself, walking by her side, gave Thes- 
mi a vivid sense of a world newly created, a spring- 
tide of glory, and she languorously acquiesced in 
it all. 

As they turned from the druggist’s into the street, 


THE TWO HOUSES 


143 


Thesmi's voice rang out sharply, “Signa,’’ as at the 
other meeting. But this time it held a note of some- 
thing like fear. Ralph had been looking down with 
proprietary eyes, and she, with light manner was 
making merry over something when they came face 
to face. But Thesmi did not offer her hands as 
before; there was not the eager precipitancy; 
rather she shrank back as if she would hide in the 
shadow of the man. 

“Oh, ah, delighted, I’m sure, to meet you again. 
How very ” In sharp contrast to Ralph’s com- 

posure, Thesmi’s words rang out, 

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t bear it. 
What have I done, Signa, that you treat me this 
way?” There was accusation, too, in the girl’s 
voice, whether she was aware of it or not, as if 
Signa had assumed the role of the Pythoness. 

Signa did not answer Thesmi’s outbreak. She 
spoke quietly to Ralph, explaining that she had been 
about to enter the store when arrested by their 
presence. 

“Who is ill, Signa, — not Ishna, surely?” Thesmi 
drew closer as she spoke. 

“No, Little One, Ishna is well. The medicine is 
for one we are caring for.” Signa drew the girl’s 
hands between her own warm-fingered ones for a 
moment, then with a quick gesture of adieu, entered 
the store. 

Thesmi took a step forward as if she would fol- 
low her, but straightened her somewhat chivalrous 
shoulders, fell into step with her companion, and 
they walked away. 

“Are your friends always engaged in caring for 
unfortunate people. Daphne?” Ralph could more 


144 


THE TWO HOUSES 


easily break the silence that had fallen between 
them than he could the something that Signa had 
interposed, — and of which he seemed entirely un- 
conscious. 

“Oh, I think so — at least they are doing good all 
the time. And I do nothing. Yes, I do — I have 
been doing worse than nothing lately. How I wish 
they had not moved away and that I could feel as 
I always felt when with them.” Thesmi remained 
subdued and thoughtful in manner during the walk 
home. 

Immediately after Ralph’s departure, Althoth’s 
condition became serious. Thesmi and the neigh- 
bor were in constant attendance. 

“Old Sweetness,” Thesmi murmured, “How I 
wish I could suffer for you !” The old scholar was 
propped up among the pillows, books all around 
him. It was in a very literal sense that he could 
take pleasure in their company. And what vistaed 
perspectives of enlightenment they opened up ! 
Choice, rare, the cherished volumes were doubly so 
from long contact with the pure, sweet magnetism 
of the owner. 

“The sweetest thing on earth is what he surely 
is, Miss Thesmi. It breaks my heart to see him 
suffer in this way. He’s never done a thing on 
earth to deserve this!” Neighbor Sophy hid her 
wet eyes behind her apron and strove for com- 
posure. 

And when he slept they tiptoed to an adjoining 
room and the neighbor took up a piece of linen she 
was repairing. 

“Don’t mind me talking, Miss Thesmi,” her voice 
was low, confidential. “They’re whispering about 


THE TWO HOUSES 


145 


it in the kitchen, and they’ll soon be gossiping about 
in town. He’s maybe your heaven, and our heaven 
always matches our ideas.” And a glimpse of 
heaven, however misty, brightened the neighbor’s 
eyes. “You’ll be leaving Seattle altogether and go 
and live in that far away England, won’t you?” 
The woman had the courage of her curiosity, which 
was never impertinent. She was a likable being 
and looked now on Thesmi with real affection in 
her eyes. 

“It isn’t my heaven at all — that is — oh, what am 
I saying?” The girl’s voice was unpleasant in its 
sharpness. She looked as if she hated some one 
or something. For an instant she forgot that she 
had granted the request of his lips — had not with- 
held the promise. But she looked as if she would 
like to think that she had. “Oh, well,” she con- 
tinued with some braggadocio, “it is useless for me 
to deny it. I never should have told you but you 
seem to be always behind the scenes anyway. And 
you are the only one around me I care to confide in, 
or can trust. He offered me his hand, his wealth, 
social position — everything. Why should I not ac- 
cept him? It isn’t for his wealth. No one can say 
that I am marrying him for his fortune. Papa is 
wealthy. I am a girl of fortune myself. I shall be 
mistress of great wealth when papa dies. So of 
course money is not an object in my love affairs. 
I don’t care for it anyway. I am marrying him for 

— oh, well, for ” She did not finish but rose 

to leave the room, but turned at the door to further 
add, “I’m only a plain Western girl, but he loves 
me, and I’m willing to leave here for such a spleq- 
did man,” 


146 


THE TWO HOUSES 


The neighbor looked after the girl, who had as- 
sumed all at once a proud, rather independent air, 
and her face lengthened as she carefully folded her 
hem. Allowing the work to lie idle in her lap, she 
slowly looked around at the wholly perfect appoint- 
ments of the room. While no ostentation particu- 
larly marked the Gouled surroundings, nothing that 
money could buy was lacking to increase comfort 
and facilitate labor in the household. Then she 
nodded her head commiseratingly, listening to 
Thesmi soothing Althoth in the next room. Usually 
patience itself, he was querulous of late. 

“If I were able but once more to read it.” He 
was referring to his beloved Virgil, “I would die 
content.” 

It was the figure of a studious yesterday that 
Thesmi and Sophy saw fretting before them — to be 
at home among the Greek and Latin classics, to 
burn the midnight oil delving into the treasures of 
ancient art and literature, to love and revere the 
Word — the Utterance — as pervaded now with di- 
vine substance as when God said Let there be 
Light , — this was the man. 

And still dangled the tassle from the cap of 
ancient date worn whenever he was able to sit up 
a moment, and always carefully adjusted over his 
thin locks by Thesmi, who respected the gentle- 
faced, lovable old book-worm’s humors. 

Neighbor Sophy seemed to have something on 
her mind, and as soon as she was off duty began, 

“Have you noticed anything unusual in your 
aunt’s manner lately. Miss Thesmi? You have! 
She seems more subdued, but you thought that it 
was on account of Althoth’s illness. Or maybe 


THE TWO HOUSES 


147 


she was improving in temper — well! well! But 
what I’m going to tell you is this : I heard her and 
the butcher’s boy the other day having a terrible 
row over a bill — an unpaid bill. She was perfectly 
furious at first, and grew purple in the face, but 
the boy said something — I caught only a scrap of 
the conversation and she quieted right down for a 
spell. But on the heels of that the grocer’s man 
comes along and says he’s got orders to collect ” 

Thesmi still retained the proud independent air 
she had assumed when enlightening Sophy as to her 
marriage and she asked now rather haughtily, 

“What was the scrap of conversation you heard 
between the boy and my aunt? It couldn’t have 

been anything ” The neighbor was leaving the 

room hastily, declaring that she had seen Calli- 
machus from the window making toward the wood- 
pile. This was unusual, as he was always prefer- 
ably positioned in a rocker. He was long on the 
art of visions, interpreting them for his mother, — 
and sawing a stick of wood when he had time. But 
consistency became a quibble in one so avowedly 
fantastical. 

That evening after seeing Althoth comfortable, 
and under the care of Sophy for the night, Thesmi 
went up for a short session of quiet in her now al- 
most neglected Den. She took up her violin and 
twanged the strings idly, when suddenly a vivid 
recollection assailed her and dyed her cheeks crim- 
son. What had she to do with such recollections 
now? The receding wave left her face pale. In- 
stead of the calm and strength she sought and hoped 
to have found there, a very gale of feeling, of 
equinoctial violence, raged within her. She hurled 


148 


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ignominy and fine scorn at herself. If she could feel 
that her part with Ralph Allingham was wholly 
worthy, if she had not this uncertainty of motive, 
if she had not reason for this censure of her con- 
duct, she would not be where she now was — on the 
point of absolutely hating herself. And the old 
clean days when this unsated thing lay coiled and 
asleep — would they ever return? And what of the 
Musician? Where was he? She could see him 
now in fancy, as she had seen him when he ap- 
proached her, his wonderfully handsome face 
aglow. Ah, a half hour of his delicious playing 
was worth more than — What was she saying ? 
And with a burst of tears, the girl laid her violin 
aside. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


149 


CHAPTER TWELVE. 

Creditors At the Door. 

I feel the same truth how often in my trivial 
conversation with my neighbors: — that some- 
what higher than each of us overlooks this by- 
play, and Jove nods to Jove from behind each 
of us. — Emerson. 

The neighbor, who was doing duty as nurse to 
Althoth again, had had one of her lucid spells 
some time before and she chose to be occultly rem- 
iniscent. She did not stop to consider that one per- 
son’s magic never feels real to another. It is not 
the same as if that magic belonged to that other. 
She gauged her sick-room duties — the length of the 
pauses — and sorted out her visions and experi- 
ences accordingly. Each story had its own proper 
setting, but each was affiliated with the other 
stories. And she was throwing this one out as a 
speculation on Thesmi’s psychic proclivities. 

“I dropped into a queer state one night not long 
ago. Miss Thesmi — a terrible state. I’ve been that 
way before, but never as bad as this time. But 
that’s the way these things come — you’re left alone 
for a long time and then you’re given all the more 
to make up for it, to test you, to see how much 
more you can bear. I couldn’t move hand nor 
foot. I thought I was going to die. Well, all at 
once, when I thought that my last minute had come, 
what should I see but a little bird all decorated with 
little blue flowers — forget-me-nots, or like them. I 


150 


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must have sensed help, for I cried immediately, ‘Oh, 
little bird with the pretty blue flowers, won’t you 
help me?’ and in the twinkling of an eye, out of 
that state I came and found 'myself sitting up. 
Now, what do you think. Miss Thesmi? — it was 
the subtle double of a god that took the form of a 
bird and came to my assistance. It was all as plain 
and as real as you and I here this minute — and 
plainer. And I understand the little blue flowers, 
too. My little sister always comes to me with a 
spray of them pinned on her white nightie. Now 
what do you think — the blue flowers were there to 
let me know that she was near ? How we are loved 
and guarded. Miss Thesmi !” 

The neighbor gave Thesmi a look of conviction. 
With her each dream was a sacred revelation, each 
vision a record of some hope’s achievement, or a 
warning to mark the burial of a fond desire. 

This last mechanical vision, though seeming to 
defy analysis, meaning or anything else in the 
neighbor’s make-up, was not unlike others that had 
put queer little kinks into Thesmi’s mind. She was 
inclined to think that the woman persuaded herself 
that the incident actually occurred as she presented 
it. And, moreover, the neighbor had the gift of 
vivifying her visions, and a way of taking her lis- 
teners to her queer land and setting them squarely 
down in the very midst of it all, so that the decent, 
sober reality became merely a sort of appendage. 
Sometimes too her imagination — or some occult 
force within her — presented a vital truth in a clear 
way; and her unparalleled interpretation of ob- 
scure, least-known texts was something amazing. 

“That is the Indian’s belief, too,” Thesmi told 


THE TWO HOUSES 


151 


Sophy, ‘'the belief that a god can enter any form at 
will — animate or inanimate. In the Indian’s mind 
there is ever the double conception — the god and 
the form assumed by the god. And they believe 
that everything has a spirit. It is also the Egyptian 
belief, only they elaborate more upon it. For in- 
stance, they believe that the gods have a double as 
well as man, only the gods can divide it into many, 
the object into many, the object into which it enters 
partaking of the nature of the divinity which ani- 
mates it. How strange that you should have the 
same thing given to you in a dream — or whatever 
it was !” 

“It all came from the inside of me. Miss Thesmi. 
Much that I know is given to me in this way.” 

Sophy’s oddity was not mere sensation-monger- 
ing, although her juggling with the mysteries some- 
times caused those who heard her to gasp. Be- 
hind every clump of dreams, around every undis- 
covered corner of existence, she half expected, 
wholly hoped, to find the supernal. 

“He’s stirring. Miss Thesmi,” Sophy had risen 
and was looking at Althoth, lying on the bed in the 
next room. “He’ll want you the first thing. He’s 
not long for this world.” 

“Oh, don’t say that! I can’t bear it! When 
papa gets back we’ll have a consultation of doctors.” 

Thesmi had joined the nurse at the door and both 
watched the sick man. Her voice, though low, — al- 
most inaudible, — was tense with something she 
could not define — a strange fear that sometimes 
overtook her, an uneasiness, a heaviness that per- 
vaded the Home. She told herself over and over 
that when her father returned the cloud would 


152 


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lift, and, with Althoth well again, things would go 
on as heretofore. 

The inexorable quiet progress of decay was go- 
ing on with Althoth the gentle. Yet even in the in- 
terval of mild delirium, the sound, yet always 
supple English was the compelling passion with 
him. He partly raised his head from the pillow and 
murmured, still with good voice : 

“Heed, therefore, what I say; and keep in mind 
What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has designed." 

“Althoth’s such a book-worm, he believes every 
word he reads.” Sophy spoke in a whisper, — she 
thought she must apologize sometimes for his quo- 
tations. 

The stillness of the room was suddenly invaded 
by the high falsetto of Aunt Meg’s voice; she was 
having an exceedingly spirited encounter with some 
one at the front door. 

“It’s that man again. Miss Thesmi,” whispered 
Sophy. “He’s hanging around the house all the 
time. He ” 

Thesmi had swirled past her and was gone. 

“What is it. Aunt? Let me attend to this. Let 
me hear what this man has to say.” The girl’s face 
was white as she motioned the man into the house. 
Her aunt glowered and made a movement as if 
she would seize him by the ears, for contentious- 
ness was the breath of her nostrils, but Thesmi 
forcibly took her hand from the door handle and 
turned her aside. 

When Thesmi came out from the cabinet council 
in the library her face was whiter yet. 


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153 


“Is he your father?” the sharp-eyed man barked 
with lightning-like rapidity as the door closed 
upon them. “If he is ” 

“Let me know at once what you mean — what you 
want.” There was a brave look in the girl’s eyes — 
eyes of rare expression — although she trembled in 
every limb and gripped her small hands convul- 
sively. 

“What I want is my money back — that’s what I 
want.” 

“Your money? What money? Who has your 
money?” Already the inconsequential girl had 
merged into the calculating woman — parrying for 
time, time to think, to understand. 

“Yes, my money, the money I turned over to 
Mark Gouled, G-o-u-l-e-d, for timber land — the 

savings of a life-time, by G . He told me he 

hand an option on a big tract — the yarn he spins to 
them all, I’ve found out — and I advanced him my 
life savings — my all ! D’ye know what I’m finding 
out ? This timber business of his is a bluif — a blind. 
It looks like it, for I’ve never been able to get any 
satisfaction out of him. He’s never at his office 
now ; and that’s why I’m here. He’s in hiding. But 
I’ll thrash matters out with him if it takes a life- 
time.” There was no mistaking the menace of the 
tone. The man was a sturdy, compact figure, with 
a shock of thick black hair just verging on grey, 
and eyes that looked one through and through — and 
he didn’t need to force them to meet Thesmi’s. 

“There may have been some trouble about getting 
you your title, some delay, but Mr. Gouled must 
have the land — the land is there. My father’s repu- 
tation — — ” 


154 


THE TWO HOUSES 


“Don’t be so sure of your father’s reputation.” 
The man smothered an oath. “No, he hasn’t the 
land. After I’d haggled with him for a long time, 
he gave me a description — a false locality. I was 
after my title. It was a bogus timber tract. How 
do I know that he has no land? I sent a timber 

cruiser to take stock. The whole d thing’s a 

fake.” 

The man’s voice was firm and convincing. He 
had struck at her with naked truth. Under his 
rapid fire she wilted and questioned him no more, 
for fear there might be some revelation yet more 
cataclysmic. She had no doubt but that he would 
soon take drastic action unless she could com- 
promise with him. But there was a suggestion of 
possibilities about the man, and at last she gained 
his promise — and she felt that she could trust him 
— not to come to the house again, arranging to see 
him at her father’s office later. He was in straits, 
she told him, and she pitied him. In the meantime 
she would communicate with her father, and prom- 
ised settlement of the matter if he kept quiet. 

At first her words were drowned in a tempest of 
derision, but somehow the man, after looking hard 
at her, assented and left with more hope in his 
look. She seemed to have a power over him which 
she had not supposed before that she possessed. 
Instinctively the man seemed to know that the rich 
voice was that of a true person. 

In her Den, whither she had fled to gain com- 
posure after the man left, Thesmi was seized with 
a powerful suspicion. She tried to put it from her 
by arguing that this man’s case must be an excep- 
tional one, and he may not have given her the 


THE TWO HOUSES 


155 


right idea of the situation, but still it returned. 
If her father had appropriated this man's money, 
if he did not deal in timber lands, what had he done 
with the Ailing ham fortune f 

Like a flash, too, she recalled her father’s strange 
behaviour, his mutterings that all would be well, his 
eagerness for her to accept Ralph’s attentions. 
Her brain whirled on. It went over and over the 
ugly words the man had hissed at her in the li- 
brary. As the infamy of her father grew upon her 
knowledge, a strong brain would have given way 
with the strain of those few hours. 

After the first shock of discovery, Thesmi had 
scant time for morbid thought. Following the first 
man’s importunity, others came, hard-faced with 
the conviction that they had been duped, and she 
found it expedient to be in attendance at the door 
since the run upon the home. She adopted the same 
policy as on the first occasion, and her personality 
was such that she was enabled to exact a promise 
from each that the home should not be molested. 
She now spent some hours daily at her father’s 
office. 

Unpleasant rumors, she learned from the callers, 
had been in circulation for some time. But the 
timber merchant, looked upon as a man of sub- 
stance, was the intimate of some of the best busi- 
ness men of the city, and the idol of a certain class 
of poorer men, who believed in his financial genius, 
believed that he was the spirit of success. His 
indomitable will and assured manner repeatedly 
saved him when exposure in his big gamble 
threatened. Confiding investing individuals fol- 
lowed his deceiving advice, and he had little trouble 


156 


THE TWO HOUSES 


in becoming custodian of large sums. In the mad- 
ness of speculation, the money had been sunk in 
mining-stock ventures. His taste for high finance 
made him stake and stake again. His losses mad- 
dened him ; he lost interest in all but these ventures. 
The time came when he could no longer cover his 
tracks, and he had in reality been in hiding for 
some time in the home before his erratic disappear- 
ance. 

Thesmi had been singularly spared all the sordid 
realities of life; they had been entirely apart from 
her. The shopkeeper was to be reckoned with ; 
the realities of finance, by proxy only. The women 
of the household had never had the handling of the 
funds at all. Aunt Meg’s prudent regard for the 
butcher’s and baker’s weights and other shrewish 
deals were more to give an outlet to her temper 
than from any monetary consideration. Indeed, 
money might have “just growed,” as Topsy 
“specked” she had, for all they understood of its 
value in the way of expenditure. And Thesmi was 
supposedly mistress of immense wealth. 

The standard of living in the Gouled home had 
advanced with the growing wealth of the owner. 
The house kept up in the march with the moneyed 
people of town. It was expected as a matter of 
course to order delicacies considered within the 
reach only of the fattest purses. 

Aunt Meg’s exhibitions of temper became so 
frequent and violent that Thesmi feared something 
would have to be done with her. Tradesmen com- 
ing to the house delayed cautiously on the extreme 
edge of the curb before venturing to approach the 
door, for fear of the vixenish housekeeper. 


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157 


“You’ll have to find your father if he’s alive, 
Thesmi Gouled ! Look here !” and Aunt Meg dra- 
matically shook out the empty flour-bin to its found- 
ation. “And look there !” throwing open a door to 
display empty shelves. “And there’s the woodshed 
swept as clean as a new pin. Not a stick but what 
Callimachus — whom I’ve always thought a baby — 
threw over the fence and sawed for us.” 

For the first time in her life, Aunt Meg had es- 
caped from her dense atmosphere, and saw her 
neighbor more in his relation to the all, and not 
merely as a performer in a side-show. And if there 
was any change, the change was in herself ; she had 
merely come into recognition of it. 

Thesmi raised her heavy eyes at her aunt’s 
screaming voice. She was standing before a much- 
polished range, carefully stirring the invalid’s food. 

“I have tried to find him. Time and again I have 
gone around the Indian camps to see if Kaeokuke 
had been heard from. Here today, there tomorrow, 
the Indians with whom he made his headquarters 
have gone on a trip far north to visit relatives. 
That is all I could learn. They may be weeks in 
their big canoe on the Sound, and how am I to know 
whether he went with them or not? My hope 
rests on Kaeokuke. If he is with my father, all is 
well. But why does my father not come? Heavy 
falls of snow are reported in the mountains already. 
The peaks of the Olympics are gleaming whiter and 
whiter each day.” Thesmi looked as if she realized 
that the little family group was facing an unflinch- 
ing game of odds. 

Not a servant was in sight. 

The food that was being so carefully prepared 


158 


THE TWO HOUSES 


had been brought in by Sophy. “When your money 
goes by the board, Miss Thesmi,” she comforted, 
“it is not serious; but when your good heart goes 
it is a calamity.” 

Thesmi tried hard to improve the housekeeping, 
involving as it did the regular performance of a 
certain round of unavoidable duties ; that is, she 
tried to simplify matters. She took hold of the 
details of work with a will, but it was impossible at 
first to get her aunt to let go her antecedent mastery 
of the complicated machinery. Without any help 
whatever, except Sophy’s attendance upon Althoth, 
her aunt insisted upon the last bit of table etiquette. 
She knew what good service was, she had no lack 
of esteem as to how a dinner should be cooked, how 
it should be served and how it should be eaten, and 
her rigid line of upper lip never weakened as she 
went the rounds from morning to night. Behind 
the entrenchment in the kitchen, Thesmi caught the 
subtle spirit of energy — even the beauty — of her 
aunt’s specialized perfection — from sweeping the 
floors, making beds and cooking dinners. She saw 
with dawning appreciation what it meant to be a 
housekeeper like her aunt, now that she worked 
regularly some hours each day in the kitchen. She 
soon realized to the last degreee, at this time, what 
it meant to be a maid-of-all-work. There were the 
thousand and one little things to be thought of, en- 
tailing the most trying manual labor. Numerous 
trips between pantry and table, each dish making 
separate demands upon the strength — all was ex- 
acting to an unaccustomed hand. And when, added 
to all this, her irascible aunt’s supersensitive house- 
keeping instinct was brought into play as against 


THE TWO HOUSES 


159 


her own inexperience, clashes were inevitable. It 
was little wonder that Thesmi looked her changed 
conditions and grew paler and thinner as each day 
passed. 


160 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

Althoth^s Death. 

“Behold! Love is a ransom, and the tears 
thereof are prayers.” 

“Yea, thy love shall enfold the soul which thou 
lovest: it shall be unto him as a wedding gar- 
ment and a vesture of blessing.” 

Whatever hospitality the Gouled home had dis- 
pensed, and the housekeeping it involved, had al- 
vrays been under the sole care and superintendence 
of the housekeeper, and she could command at all 
times what means and help she pleased, so that 
Thesmi was wholly spared all responsibility and 
was entirely ignorant of domestic management. 

There must have been some of her old-time 
friends who would have been willing to assist had 
they known of her distress, but her pride took alarm 
at the very beginning of her troubles when one of 
her fair-weather friends dropped her without even 
ordinary courtesy. Where she had once been 
toadied to she was ignored. The only ones who 
did help out in her great need was neighbor Sophy 
and her son, both, needless to say, very poor. 

It was better as it was. Thesmi began to feel 
the power engendered by the spur of necessity. She 
was forced now to fight for what she got herself 
and for those dependent upon her. There was not 
a moment of the day — and often the greater part 
of the night — when she was not busy: the office 
hours faithfully appointed and kept, the domestic 


THE TWO HOUSES 


161 


duties, and Althoth — above all, dear old Althoth! 
Each day’s work was rigidly calculated, each small 
expenditure, as if, in the mathematical and numeri- 
cal relation of all small things there was a reference 
and a responsibility to the great. And all this with- 
out any deterioration on her part. Far otherwise 
She demonstrated that refinement was not the ex- 
clusive property of the drawing-room; that the 
home at large, with all its modernity, was culture’s 
rightful field, and kitchen’s privilege might as 
readily lend itself to uplift of mind as furnish nutri- 
ment for the body. fsFor altogether as a disagree- 
able necessity was the assumption of these duties so 
entirely new to her. With a positiveness of pur- 
pose she tried to make for a home instead of a 
turmoiled scramble for the exact science of the 
dishpan, or eternal jockeying for first place in the 
line of cake-making; — abstaining from a home 
though that home be perfectly appointed. 

With her aunt housekeeping-mad and her father 
money-mad, it was little wonder that this radical- 
ness obtained. The home of Signa and Ishna, 
which always seemed full of the sweetest atmos- 
phere on earth, and which at the same time could 
hardly be called a home — certainly not a House — 
was ever before her. She recalled vividly the cul- 
ture and peace that were there; the Women’s ad- 
vocacy, though there never was preachment, of sim- 
pleness in living, entailing as it did gain on every 
side. Their makeshifts for economy, their utiliza- 
tion of the simplest, commonest things at hand — 
which thereby immediately became uncommon — all 
passed before her mental vision many times a day 


162 THE TWO HOUSES 

and brought an uplift she could have found in no 
other way. 

Thesmi attended entirely to the preparation of 
the invalid’s food, and it was in the kitchen that 
Aunt Meg handed her a British-stamped letter. She 
was irritatingly aware that her aunt’s eagle eyes 
were traveling curiously to where she stood skim- 
ming the missive over. She was never communica- 
tive about her affairs, and she was not surprised 
when her aunt broke ground, — well knowing she 
would get nothing if she didn’t. 

“Is he coming back?” she snapped, index finger 
and eyes focused on the letter. 

“No! Never!” cried the girl disgustedly. “I 
don’t want him back.” 

“You don’t want him back? Aren’t you engaged 
to him? Isn’t he good enough for you? What 
more do you want ?” The housekeeper had become 
inoculated with British distinction, and this flat- 
footed disavowal of Allingham swept her off her 
feet. 

A fierce red slowly spread all over Thesmi’s face 
as she answered in a meeker tone, “I know very 
well that you couldn’t think otherwise. But no. I’m 
not engaged to him — at least, not now. Oh, I know 
that you have a perfect right to think all that’s mean 
and calculating and everything else about me — you 
can’t think any worse of me than I do of myself. 
But you never thought anything but evil of me 
anyway.” Her aunt winced at the bitterness of the 
last sentence. 

“It’s not that, ” she returned in a much better- 
mannered voice, “but you let him make all sorts 
of love to you while he was here, hot and heavy, 


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163 


too, and how could anyone think otherwise than 
that you intended to marry him? How many more 
escapades will you be in before you settle down? 

Your father ’’ She broke off suddenly, and 

just then Sophy stood in the door saying respect- 
fully, 

“He is calling for you. Miss Thesmi. Please 
come at once.” 

Glad of the interruption, Thesmi hurried to her 
charge. 

Perhaps the sordidness of life bore hardest down 
upon Thesmi at this time. And perhaps she was a 
little too hard upon herself. Her relationship with 
Ralph Allingham was probably due to some pecu- 
liar transitory condition, some secret process that in- 
fluences sex. This passed; the return to her fine 
hold upon her true nature was swift and sure, yet 
leaving behind the memory of the period to prick 
her. She could not forgive herself, yet at times it 
seemed some cryptic evil of the universe rather than 
a separate error of herself, abhorring as she did 
such needless falsity, and this abhorrance, she felt, 
though in a dim way, must shrive her. For deter- 
mined love had arrived — if it had not always been 
present — and filled every interstice of her being. 

We are told that in the everlasting ascending and 
descending of Substance, in passing sometimes the 
downgoing becomes entangled in the upgoing; so 
it may have been with Thesmi — an old evil en- 
tangled. 

With her server daintily arranged, Thesmi 
hastened to the invalid’s bedside, but he was unable 
to partake of the food so lovingly prepared, one 


164 


THE TWO HOUSES 


state of weakness following another in quick suc- 
cession. In vain she coaxed, 

“Well, try this, old sweetness! Try, honey 
dear ; try — do 

“A change is fast coming. Miss Thesmi. I will 
leave now and go and attend to my home a little 
and be in readiness to be with you tonight. He 
has fallen into a quiet sleep at last, and it may be 
that you can rest a little.” 

In homely background, what a pillar of strength 
neighbor Sophy was ! And that she was a privilegie 
of the home was her joy, her reward, as she fre- 
quently testified in her talkative way. 

When she returned, Althoth was still sleeping, 
and she passed into the adjoining room. Thesmi 
had thrown herself upon a couch for a needed rest. 
The neighbor’s grey eyes were crinkled, and she 
looked as if she had something to tell — as if she 
would like to spread it to the Pillars of Hercules. 

“Pm going to tell you something wonderful. Miss 
Thesmi, I’m going to astound you. On my way up 
here I glanced into the dining-room and the dishes 
are still on the table, and your aunt is taking it easy 
in a rocker, the pink of mildness, and it struck me 
that she was going to try all there was in it that 
she’d never tried before. And she looked too as 
if she was thinking of something that kept her 
pinned to her seat. You know I always feel as if 
I must look out for burning lava when I’m near 
her, but she looked so — so regardless and — majestic 
I nearly cried out. She’s all right at heart — but her 
temper! Maybe she’s found out sudden that a 
kitchen’s more than a place for a frying pan, that 
even a kitchen’s not a Sahara ; that it’s also a place 


THE TWO HOUSES 


165 


for love and peace, and she can have all these if 
she keeps her mind trained upon the real needs of 
life — not the superficial. She's had a taste of her 
own medicine when she had to take all the steps. 
She tried hard to keep up ; but we’re all poor 
creatures and weak in flesh. At any rate, there she 
is ! Not to say but that her housekeeping comes as 
near being perfect as housekeeping can come, — 
and she respects her work. She’s a walking frame 
of bones and the corners of her mouth are drawn 
down and skewered under her chin. But all the 
steps in life have to be taken. Miss Thesmi ; no one 
development will bring us to the goal. We’re not 
working to live, but living to work. It’s your ex- 
ample, working right along with her in the kitchen 
— the pleasantest place in the house — your show- 
ing her that you could subdue a sinkful of dishes 
and ply a broom with the best of them, — without 
a hint of monopoly on the business either, that has 
helped to sober her.” 

Unless neighbor Sophy could give what is called 
in painting “A vigorous demonstration, — ” a warm 
mass on a cool one — she was not satisfied. To her, 
the housekeeper’s rest marked an epoch in history. 
The commonest affairs of life had to be endowed 
with a theatrical allure. She could command atten- 
tion too, by her novel accounts, which, if sometimes 
neither the reason nor the senses could comprehend, 
stimulated the imagination. And it was hard to 
say how small or how large in value her feelings 
were to the world. Her concepts were rarely the 
common possession of the multitude, — yet some- 
times truth is best discerned — the color of things 


166 


THE TWO HOUSES 


best seen — in the semi-darkness. And she loved to 
fondle her illusions. 

All through the night Thesmi and Sophy watched 
by the bedside of the dying scholar. At times his 
thin white fingers were raised as if in protest — as if 
gently warding off something; as if he saw the 
viewless, heard the soundless thing. Unless it was 
Azrael, the angel who watches over the dying and 
separates the soul from the body, but of whom the 
watchers could not know, there was none other 
present; these alone tried to lighten the change 
before him. 

“I didn’t know that any one could look so peace- 
ful, Miss Thesmi. Each soul has to go it’s own 
way — each one has to draw the first breath and 
breathe out the last one, and no two in the wide 
world go out or come in alike. There’s a dis- 
tinctive method in each.” After a moment the 
neighbor whispered, “The doctor says that it’s a 
question only of hours. He’s at the point of death 
now. He’s at death’s door — but the door only leads 
into another room.” 

No wonder that Sophy commented upon the 
scene. The lines of age had vanished from the 
old scholar’s face and made the features almost 
angelic. He who thrilled to the short Saxon words, 
whose tongue voiced the loved Virgil, now made 
but the feeble sounds of death — death, the climax, 
which is not the mere summing up of the disease, 
but is in the framework of the life itself. 

“Dear old sweetness,” Thesmi murmured again 
and again, “how much I love you ! I cannot stand 
it!” 

Warm-hearted Sophy passed her arm around the 


THE TWO HOUSES 


167 


girl and stroked her hair tenderly. “I can think of 
nothing but some verses my son repeats. He is al- 
ways memorizing. And I’m going to give you this 
one, Miss Thesmi, seeing your great love for Al- 
thoth.” In a not unmusical voice she repeated 
slowly, 

“ ‘Love redeemeth, Love lifteth up, Love enlight- 
eneth, Love advanceth souls.’ And I think Althoth’s 
soul, when he leaves us, will be advanced through 
your great love for him. Is it not a beautiful 
thought — that we can advance souls through our 
love for them?” Sophy looked as if the beauty of 
it broke out over her and ran like a warm wave 
through her being. 

Through the following day the inexorably quiet 
progress of death went on. Late in the afternoon 
the door of the sick-room quietly opened and Signa 
entered. After patting Thesmi’s hands and looking 
unutterable love, without a word, she laid aside 
her wraps and took up her station at the bedside. 

Just as the room was bathed in the luminosity of 
the sundown, just as the glory-spread western sky 
etherealized the earth, it became evident that Peres- 
ephone and Slumber Would bear him on. The dying 
man’s eyes opened and a half-smile played around 
his mouth. He essayed to speak — as if once more, 
before he entered the harbor, he would render his 
beloved lines, but he failed. There was a last 
flickering of the flame, and the blameless being lay 
forever tranquilized. 

It was the first time that Thesmi had witnessed 
death, and in spite of all that she had read to 
brighten faith, darkness prevailed for a time. She 
looked as if, gazing on the silent form, she had wit- 


i6S 


THE TWO HOUSES 


nessed a vast Initiation — a triumph of the soul over 
the body — yet the mystery of it all overwhelmed 
and blinded her. Perhaps coming at this time, when 
all things connected with her seemed leagued 
against her — as stars in their courses fought against 
Sisera — it was additionally depressing. 

They could not get the weeping girl to leave the 
room. She watched Signa shaping the death- 
clothes; the making of the garment jolted her 
memory, and an overwhelming rush of recollections 
crashed her eyes with tears anew. “Oh, Signa,” 
she moaned, as the happing sheet was laid over the 
still form, “how long it seems since I saw you make 
one of these — do you remember — the coarse white 
shroud for the derelict — the drowned man ? It was 
when I first knew you — and what has not happened 
since that time! What does it all mean? And, 
where is my father all this time ?” 

Thesmi had an enlightening experience when she 
was brought face to face with her past grievances — 
which, in the light of latter day troubles and sor- 
rows, seemed but shadows. 

She poured into Signa’s sympathetic ear the story 
of her father’s disappearance, the awful struggle 
of the home without means, the dreadful harass- 
ment of the creditors — the men prowling about the 
home. She ended by fetching a deep sigh and cry- 
ing out pitifully. 

“Why did you keep aloof from me all this 
time, Signa? I needed you. It was terrible 
to be without your — your — oh, I don’t know 
what it is, but there’s something you and Ishna 
carry about with you that is felt — and that helps, 
— and I needed it. I’m not the same girl you and 


THE TWO HOUSES 169 

Ishna first knew. Perhaps when you know all 
you’ll not have the same affection for me.” 

At Thesmi’s pleading, Signa had remained after 
caring for the dead. She was an earnest listener 
to every word that the girl said. At the allusion to 
want of affection a beautiful smile played around 
her lips for an instant as she answered. 

“The Master we follow has affection for all. So 
must we have, Little One, else the divine spirit is 
not in us.” She evidently had a desire to question 
Thesmi, but looked as if she felt diffident about it. 
At last she asked, looking searchingly into the girl’s 
eyes, “Your escort — of the last time I saw you — is 
he here? Does he still visit ?” 

“No ! He’s not here ! He has returned to Eng- 
land.” The tone was not exactly savage, but there 
lurked enough of the old primitive vigour to slightly 
startle Signa, who looked her surprise. “Oh, 
excuse me ! I didn’t mean to be rude,” Thesmi 
hastened to apologise, but she looked so wretched 
and altogether unhappy that the older woman 
clasped her in her arms, murmuring, 

“Little One, Little One? you are unhappy! Not 
now — don’t tell me now. Some other time we’ll 
hear.” The tactful implication that she would tell 
Signa her story brought a pleased and surprised 
look to Thesmi’s troubled countenance, as did also 
the hitherto unwitnessed and perhaps unsuspected 
warm impulsiveness of Signa. 

Thesmi again reverted to Signa’s long neglect of 
her. This was the first time that either of the 
Women had been in Thesmi’s home — and but for 
changed conditions Signa would have hitherto had 
to run into the teeth of a storm of scolding and per- 


170 THE TWO HOUSES 

haps barred entrance by Aunt Meg — yet in some 
way they constantly apprised Thesmi in the past, 
of what they were doing, and this sometimes 
through Ernst or in some other way. Signa 
now told Thesmi that ever since she saw Thesmi at 
the drug store they had been kept close at home 
by the side of the man they were caring for. 

‘‘What ails the man? Why should you take the 
charge of him all this time? Who is he and where 
did he come from?” Thesmi’s tone was listless. 
It was evidently concern for the Women more than 
interest in the unfortunate man that prompted the 
rather abrupt inquiries. 

“We have asked ourselves those very questions 
many times. But there are cases where it is im- 
possible to stick to any hard-and-fast common- 
sense dictation. His appeal to us — just his appeal, 
and the thought, strong, that we were doing the 
best for him, that is all. We neither know all this 
time who he is nor where he belongs. All we do 
know is that the Indians brought him over to us 
from their camp, saying that he was “pilton,” 
crazy. They told us that as they were embarking 
in their dugout for Alki Point, after disposing of 
their clams in Seattle, he came along the water 
front and stepped into the boat, telling them to take 
him to the mountains, to his placer claim. Indian 
Tom, who speaks and understands English, tried to 
dissuade him and told him they were not going to 
the mountains, but it was of no use; he simply 
reiterated his command, and in their easy-going 
fashion they brought him to their camp. He is 
evidently suffering from lapse of memory, for coax 
and try as we will, we can glean nothing. The last 


THE TWO HOUSES 


171 


intelligible words he uttered were to the Indians as 
he stepped in to the boat, — to take him to the moun- 
tains. He needs less attention now, and Ernst has 
been able to make his rounds for us again — 
you must have known all this time that he seeks 
out for us those in need of us — ^you know he is as 
devoted as we are to the work we have chosen — the 
Master’s work, — and only yesterday we learned of 
the — the mortgage of the home — and — other 
things, and I hastened here as soon as possible. But 
we did not learn that things are as bad as they are, 
nor of the absence of your father.” 

“How self-sacrificing and earnest you and Ishna 
are! To think of your caring like that all this 
time for a stranger! Is the man quiet and orderly? 
Is he able to take care of himself at all?” 

“His weakened condition at first called for a deal 
of attention, but he is improving, recovering his 
health. He is evidently one who has enjoyed 
wealth, and is in no way an inferior person. The 
only thing that he ever does is to take an old pan 
containing water, and scooping up dirt into it, he 
eternally pans out imaginary gold — at least that is 
what we suppose; but he is no ordinary mining 
man ; his whole appearance belies that.” 

Far into the night the three women labored to 
set the house in order for the morrow — for the 
dread ordeal, the funeral. 

“The bustle in a house 
The morning after death 
Is solemnest of industries 
Enacted upon earth. 

The sweeping up the heart 
And putting love away 
We shall not want to use again 
Until eternity.” 


172 


THE TWO HOUSES 


The last thing before retiring, Thesmi stole 
quietly to her aunt’s room. She found he'r sitting 
in front of her brother’s portrait, the personifica- 
tion of dolour. It was impossible to gaze at the 
housekeeper’s changed front without a feeling of 
pity, and after stating some of the morrow’s grim 
program, Thesmi bent over and gently kissed the 
worsted creature, leaving the room immediately 
without waiting to see the effect of the sweet 
assault. 

The housekeeper was of the type of women who, 
unless entrenched behind a casehardened order of 
things — unless they could go round like a horse in 
a mill — can bring to bear on the face of life a single 
helpful resource. In this crisis of her life, she was 
like a river-boat at sea ; in a storm it would weather 
perhaps one monstrous mound of water sweeping 
over its decks, but from several such piled one on 
top of another there is no escape. 

But great is Diana of the Ephesians and great 
was Aunt Meg! Where once a gale of scolds 
harried, the ear-peace now prevailed. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


173 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

Finding Gold. 

“Gold is Where it is Found.” 

At the end of the performance at Cline’s Music 
Hall, where Zacho played — but not from choice — 
Evans, a Cornish miner, accosted him and beckoned 
with a confidential air to a retired corner of the 
room, and pointing to a seat at one of the tables, 
drew his own chair in touch with the musician’s. 

Some news of the violinist’s fame had travelled 
to the Black Diamond Mining District, where 
Evans was employed, and, with the inherent love 
for music that the Welsh people have, a little sen- 
sation was created ; and thus it was that the miner 
was drawn to the hall. Old sons of song them- 
selves, these common people knew that true worth 
can exist without being associated with any ex- 
clusive class. 

Evans listened to Zacho’s playing, and with the 
native good judgment of his countrymen approved 
it, but through it all there ran a possible business 
scheme which had long revolved in his mind, and 
which took concrete form during the evening’s 
performance. 

“Say, friend,” the rough-looking miner said, 
looking closely at Zacho and noting the thread-bare 
look of him, “I know where you can do better in 
your line than here. A friend of mine has wanted 
just such a man as you are for a long time. He’d 


174 


THE TWO HOUSES 


be willing to pay double what you get here. How 
would you like to go to Coeur d’Alene with me?” 

The player looked despondent, indifferent, as if 
all places in the world were the same to him. 

“The Coeur d’Alene mine district is flourishing. 
The miners spend their money freely. I’m an old 
hand myself and know the district well.” While 
speaking the miner moved restlessly in his chair, 
now clenching his big-knuckled hand on the table, 
now sweeping away some imaginary obstacle be- 
fore him. He seemed debating something with 
himself. At last, leaning closer to Zacho, he whis- 
pered, ‘T believe I can trust you to keep quiet even 
if you don’t see fit to take up my proposition.” 

“Trust me to keep quiet. What is the proposi- 
tion?” Zacho in turn critically measured his new 
acquaintance but it was with the well-bred glance of 
one accustomed to repress surprise before others. 
His customary air of aristocratic breeding and lofty 
thought were little in keeping with the place or 
time. But his companion, weighing the simple 
largeness and outlook of the man before him, felt 
no sense of inferiority, rather a queer thrill of dis- 
tant brotherhood. 

The miner was slouch-hatted and deep-eyed, and 
his lean, square face was lined with endurance. 

Evidently the miner was satisfied and had made 
up his mind to something. He bent closer to his 
companion and in a low voice began, “Go partners 
with me in a mining scheme. It’s pitch and toss, 
but it’s worth trying. I know what I’m saying. 
There’s an old Welsh proverb ‘He that shoots at 
random will lose his arrow.’ But I’m not shooting 
at random. I know of an old abandoned mine, — 


THE TWO HOUSES 


175 


one that I worked in, that we can lease for a song. 
If we can strike the lost vein we are made. The 
owner of the mine has sunk a fortune — or for- 
tunes, rather — in trying to find the lost lead. The 
mine was one of the richest in the country at the 
time, and it is my belief — based on a lifelong ex- 
perience — that it was abandoned at the wrong time. 
I have dreamed of that mine night and day since; 
that a little more work there might be worth while. 
They ran the tunnels in the wrong direction. I was 
only a workman and had no say in the matter. 
But I worked so long in the mine that it won’t be 
like a new plan. Every formation is in my mind’s 
eye; every gallery is familiar to me.” Much more 
followed. Evans had all the miner’s phraseology 
at his tongue’s end and bewildered Zacho with his 
knowledge. But it takes a man with an iron nerve 
to dig up a dead mine and ask another to believe 
it animated. 

A faint look of hope passed over the player’s 
face; his eyes widened as he answered, “I know 
nothing whatever about mining; but I’ll trust you 
as you have trusted me. I have nothing to lose. 
I’ll be as open about it as you are. Where’ll the 
money come from to start with? I haven’t a 
dollar.” 

“I’ve thought that all out, Zacho — isn’t that what 
they call you? A sort of inspiration came over me 
while you played that tune — the queer one — what 
was the thing? It sounded like an old Welsh air 
I’ve heard my mother croon over and over. But 
the way you played it ! It sounded as if old Mother 
Earth!, herself were being trundled to sleep — it 
sounded so deep and — But to hark back to the 


176 


THE TWO HOUSES 


running of the mine, Tve thought that all out. If 
we can lease the mine, and you with your playing 
can furnish the money to keep us — that includes a 
helper — I believe that the lost lead can be found. 
But we’ll have to dig.” 

“You dig and I’ll play. That’s fair. But where 
is the money to come from to start with?” Zacho’s 
manner was animated; his eyes glowed and a fine 
touch of feeling overspread his face. 

“I’ve thought that all out, too,” the miner nodded. 
“The storekeeper at Coeur d’Alene often takes 
interest in mines and helps the fellows along. He 
will finance the thing — put up the money — in return 
for an interest in anything that might be found. 
I know him well.” 

Zacho became enthused over the novel proposi- 
tion, and the two men laid plans that very night 
for future action. 

The lease of the mine was secured. Evans acted 
as business manager at the beginning on account of 
his acquaintance with the owner of the mine, who 
lived in Seattle. 

The utmost harmony prevailed between the two 
men thus drawn together by a common cause — the 
wish to better themselves. By some force not 
obvious to the senses, they clung together, the force 
of attraction, as seen in nature, holding things to- 
gether, though not by glue, little nails, or any such 
mechanical means. 

The men planned and laid it down, iron-clad, 
that the working of the mine should go on up to a 
certain date — a day, even an hour, being set to 
stop work if no indications of the vein were found 


THE TWO HOUSES 177 

by that time. If fate still frowned, they would 
throw up the deal at the specified time. 

For a whole year, Evans and his helper dug. 
I'or a whole year Zacho played. The muffled sound 
of the pick could be heard, as it wormed its way 
into the old hills, secure in their centuries of fast- 
nesses, by Zacho as he religiously paid his visit to 
the mine before going on duty at the music hall. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

The gold hunters were being pressed hard on all 
sides. 

“That fellow Zach !” exclaimed a youngish man 
jerking his thumb in the direction of the player 
striding by. “He doesn’t care anything about 
money. He’s some sort of a prince. He’s as free 
with it as he is with his music. He’d as soon go 
down in his pocket as not if a fellow asks him for 
a dollar — when he has it. But the old one — Evans 

— By he’s hot about winning. He’ll knock 

Christ into some one if the mine doesn’t pan out 
soon.” 

“I’ll knock into them both if something isn’t 

panned out before long.” The brutal rejoinder 
was from the storekeeper, who was getting sour on 
the proposition, his percentage fading out in the 
profitless future. 

Evans and Zacho were not unaware of the cut 
glances around the camp. 

“It looks like a freeze-out, doesn’t it Pard? No? 
Well, it’s your game as well as mine. We’ll know 
before long. But if it proves as it looks that way 
now — that there’s no vein, our hopes are blasted.” 
Evans’ face wore a sort of last-chance-on-earth ex- 
pression. The long months of underground gloom, 


178 THE TWO HOUSES 

the unceasing toil was telling even on his dauntless 
spirit. 

“Keep up, Evans, keep up. It’s been a hard pull 
and a long pull, but we agreed, didn’t we, to failure 
or success when we started in? We’ll try to the 
last stroke — and there are some days left yet. And 
who knows — in your miner’s phraseology you say 
— a strike’s made any minute. You say it’s my 
game too. Well, it is and it isn’t, for if you hadn’t 
picked me up and made me a partner in all that 
took you a lifetime to learn, there’d never been a 
mine in my outlook at all. And I’m no better, no 
worse off than when we first met. And as for 
hopes — ” Zacho had started cheerfully enough to 
hearten up his friend, but with the last words he 
dropped back to his habitual restraint of manner 
and his face wore a look of sorrow. 

At last the day arrived — the hour, the limit of 
time set — and not a trace of the vein had been 
found. The mine ran into the side of the mountain, 
with chambers leading from the main tunnel. But 
the vein had mysteriously disappeared, baffling 
every effort at recapture. 

Zacho went to the mine the last day. He carried 
his violin and passed into the chamber where the 
two men had worked longest and hardest, the one 
which Evans had picked out as the surest. 

“Play! Zacho, play for luck! Play! This is 
the last call! Play, for God’s sake! Play the old 
tune — the one that sounds as if the old Earth were 
being trundled' to sleep — and I wish that could be 
seeing that” — and the disappointed man drove the 
pick with sledge-hammer ferocity, as if, like Thor’s 


THE TWO HOUSES 179 

hammer shattering the giant’s skull at a blow, he 
would rive the earth in pieces. 

Zacho twanged and set the strings, picked up the 
bow, tightened and drew it across them. He 
played, the clear true tones of a master. At first 
the monotonous beats on the dominant suggested 
the rhythm of a funeral march. He stood with his 
back against the earth wall, the violin pressed 
against cheek and neck — it might have been a hoary 
old “Strad” of priceless value, — looking with fixed 
eyes at his partner’s set face. Then he began im- 
provising soul-catching chords, runs and trills. 
Then he struck into the old tune so full of pas- 
sion, and his body swayed with each rising cadence. 
Faster and faster drove the pick and wilder and 
wilder sounded the playing as if the finer and 
coarser vibrations of the universe were seeking to 
be united. 

Nothing from the outside assailed the men’s 
senses ; the world was a setting in exuding damp- 
ness ; the earth chamber seemed actually to belong 
to the weird sounds ; the music became one with the 
metaled vault in the heart of the mountains. 

The last pregnant thrust of the pick was given 
with the fury of defeat, and Evans sullenly threw 
it to the ground, unmindful of the close examina- 
tion usually bestowed on each new inroad, for his 
eyes were always open for gold. 

Zacho had not yet ceased playing, and under 
cover of the music Evans cursed with vehemence. 
Within his strong breast the gnawing of lifelong 
failure went on, and the modest desires of his life 
receded, — a home and a wife, — grew blurred, even 
as his eyes were blurred now with bitter disappoint- 


180 


THE TWO HOUSES 


ment. It was hard to break away from the spell 
that gold casts. It was written large upon his brow 
how even the phantom of gold wrestles with the 
imagination. 

Zacho ceased playing, and with the eyes of a 
somnambulist went straight to the new cleft made 
by the pick. He was not a miner and knew noth- 
ing about indications, but he had eyes, and could 
not help seeing the gold splashes at once. Reaching 
up, he drew out something flecked with yellow. 
The lost vein trending into the big hill was dis- 
covered — the golden tide seemed to leap from the 
dank walls and descend from the roof. 

Evans found it difficult at first to seize the truth. 
Like Moses striking the rock in his impatience, 
and thereby barring the promised land, through his 
failure to scrutinize the last bite of the pick he 
threw the honor of discovery Zacho’s way. His 
composure regained, he was bound to discover it 
sooner or later, but the fact remained that the vio- 
linist found the pay streak. 

In an ecstasy, Zacho again took up his violin and 
played all the way to the concert hall. Like the 
Pied Piper of Hamelin, he led on, the two men fol- 
lowing, only the mountain instead of swallowing 
disgorged them. 

It was scarcely an hour since Zacho had entered 
the hill, but to the three men it seemed a thousand. 

That evening, seated at a table in the concert 
hall, as at their first meeting, Evans and Zacho 
laid plans for the future. 

“This is your last night here, Zacho. You must 
take hold of the business management of this 
thing now. Pll have to give all my time to the 


THE TWO HOUSES 


181 


working of the mine. We’ll put on a crew at once.” 
The miner’s tone was important, decisive. “We 
must make the most of every hour — night and day 
shifts — all that’s in it. We have four years, and 
then we have to turn it over. What wouldn’t the 
old fellow give to have the mine back again ! 
There’s fortunes in it any way you like to put it. 
We could sell our interest tomorrow for a big sum. 
But I’m in for working it for all that’s in it — all 
that it’s worth.” 

As if the delirium of gold was in the miner’s 
veins, he rambled on. “I was one of the very first 
to be employed by the owner of the mine. What 
luck that man has, anyway ! Every mine he’s 
owned — and he has several — ^pans out the same — 
almost fabulous at first, then the vein pinches out 
and not a trace of it is ever found again. He has 
sunk fortunes in the mines — whether his own or 
not I can’t say — and this is the only one where the 
vein has been traced again. I know the history of 
every one of them. Soap-bubbles at the last! He 
blasted his way time and again into the mountains, 
but never trundled out enough to pay expenses.” 

With all the eccentricities of his kind, Evans 
turned knowingly to Zacho and asked, “Were you 
ever cold, Zacho — cold to your marrow bones ? 
Uch ! What a cold ! It makes me creepy-veined 
yet. It must be the same cold that creeps around 
a dead body — and come to think about it, what a 
queer thing that death-cold is ! That’s the way I 
felt once when something happened that I’m going 
to tell you about. Time and again I’ve been on the 
edge of despair through ill-luck. Fate seemed to 
take delight in swj'apping me off at the end of every 


182 


THE TWO HOUSES 


venture, just as I thought the jade was going to 
do again when I threw down the pick and never 
once looked for color and it right there staring me 
in the face. Of course it was only a question of 
my finding it, for I go over every inch of ground 
more than once, but it looks as if you got a tip 
somehow. You beat me on that little game. You 
are the man for me, Zacho. If you’re not lucky 
yourself, tack on to one that is, follow his lead; 
that’s what I say. And this gold is the damnedest 
thing! It’s where it is found, that’s all.” 

Zacho smiled. Now that the success of the mine 
was assured, relaxation was plainly visible in the 
manner of the two men, but in widely different 
ways.- Zacho’s joy at the turn of fate was every 
way in evidence, but at times a hopeless, sad look 
crept over his face, as if behind all the good for- 
tune there lay concealed a sorrow. He was silent 
and often abstracted, in strong contrast to the gar- 
rulity of the older man, who seemed bent upon ac- 
quainting his companion with all that was upper- 
most in his mind. 

“But the time I speak of, Zacho, I was in Taco- 
ma, at a lodging-house kept by a widow. I was out 
of work, out of heart, and I crept into a bed one 
night — and, by God, I thought I’d never get warm 
again 1 As I lay there, with shivers that left hell in 
their wake, an angel, an angel of common sense, 
kindness and comfort yes, Zacho, no other kind 
of angel will suit me — entered my room. Have you 
ever had an angel ministering to you, Zacho? No. 
You haven’t come to that yet. But you may. Talk 
about golden harps and streets of gold ! Pieces of 
old woolen blanket, clean and soft, wrapped around 


THE TWO HOUSES 


183 


feet of lead — with a hot iron added, and piping hot 
gruel, and extra comforts piled up on the bed until 
the life heat comes back to you, is good enough 
for me. That’s my story. That’s my idea of an 
angel. I’m going to Tacoma to marry the lodging- 
house keeper first thing. She can’t sign her own 
name, but I’ll get her a teacher on the Q. T. and 
make a lady of her.” 

Zacho looked with longing on Evans as one hav- 
ing ^#full complement of interests. His pleasure in 
the recital was evidenced by his glowing eyes, which 
were riveted upon the staid miner’s face. He was 
naturally of a quiet, reserved disposition, seldom 
speaking unless spoken to, but few had a finer 
personality. And when his reserve did vanish, his 
manner was irresistibly fascinating; it amounted 
to genius in the way of cementing friendship. Per- 
haps this was because he made no demands on 
friendship. Like clover and alfalfa, which do not 
require to be fed, but actually leave the soil richer 
for their growth, he enriched those he came in con- 
tact with; enriched them from his own innate no- 
bility and fineness. Added to this he had the gvpsv 
faculty of making a stranger unconsciously tell his 
name and give his history ; but the story-teller must 
always be a man of good timbre. His frank and 
intelligent countenance won confidence at once. 
And the total absence of anything like mean pride 
or strutting, warded off any jealousy that those less 
endowed might feel. 

Perhaps another reason why a raw nature like 
that of Evans had a distinct charm for a higher 
type was that the naturalness of such men is never 
dulled to a point where they can play a part all 


184 


THE TWO HOUSES 


the time. In their spontaneity, their ever newness, 
lies the secret of never becoming tedious. 

“At the least expected time things crop up, 
Zacho,” chatted on the lucky miner, touching the 
player on the shoulder — he always caressed him as 
if he was fathering a prodigy. Evans suddenly 
shot out his hand, palm up, “Do you see that double 
line running up my hand?” and he indicated with 
his forefinger a deep line arising from the life line 
encircling the thumb, “and this other line — a sister 
line — supporting it right to the root of the middle 
finger? Well, a fellow was giving free tests and 
I plunked my palm onto a piece of blackened paper, 
numbered, and walked off without giving any 
thought to the matter. A chum of mine noticed the 
number and came to me a week later, asking if I 
didn’t see the ad of the palmist requesting the man 
with that number to call, as he had something of 
importance to tell him. I didn’t go. I was about 
taking a job on an outgoing vessel and was afraid 
that the man would tell me I’d be drowned. But 
my chum went to hear him again, and if he didn’t 
produce my ‘impression’, he called it, and told the 
audience that he’d like to go partners with a man 
with a double life line like that — said that it meant 
luck — riches galore. Say, Zacho, it looks like it 
now, doesn’t it? I’ve a paying proposition and a 
wife on the job as well.” 

Under the prosy details of daily life how the 
laws of romance lie concealed ! 

The interior movements of the soul which direct 
a man’s course can, at crucial moments, be dis- 
cerned by minute signs — straws showing the wind’s 
course — and Zacho came as near knowing the man 


THE TWO HOUSES 185 

before him as one being can know another. The 
miner’s ideas unveiled the miner’s heaven. 

“If my mother had only lived until now !” There 
was a world of regret in the voice of the Welshman. 
“There were only the two of us for years. How 
it all comes back to me ! I sat there and held her 
dead hand in mine until, worn out, I fell asleep. 
‘He’s snoring,’ cried one of the neighbors, horrified. 
‘It’s awful!’ ‘Leave him alone,’ ordered another. 
‘He’s worn out; he’d never do anything unlikely 
to her.’ They told me this when I woke up. 
There’s always some one who understands, Zacho.” 

The sturdy, compact figure, with the strong fea- 
tures and eyes that looked one through and through, 
was a character unlettered ; yet his graphic speech, 
though the topics were dull and of common 
quality, held his hearer. He hammered in the 
words with telling precision and directness. 

To Zacho, whose sadly varying experiences made 
him sympathize with the lowest, his partner’s reci- 
tal only cast new light on the instability, the 
weather-vane sort of existence, meted out to some 
beings. 

But Evans was not one to worship long at the 
shrine of sentiment. “You’ll have to go to Seat- 
tle, Zacho,” he advised in the tone of one who 
knows that his judgment is sound, “and pay the 
yearly installment on the mine ; it’s about due. 
Renew the lease; make all secure. Here are the 
papers and the address.” 

Both men seemed suddenly to have gained poise 
and mastery. The firm conviction that some day 
not too remote they would receive a reward vastly 
greater than ordinary, steadied all wavering, gave 


186 


THE TWO HOUSES 


them the feeling of being moneyed men, although 
to the outside world they were still but waifs of 
fortune. 


I 


THE TWO HOUSES 


187 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

Zacho Finds Thesmi. 

“While all things are in motion and fluctuate 
upon earth, while states and empires pass away 
with incredible rapidity, and the human race, 
vainly employed in the external view of these 
things, are also drawn in by the same torrent al- 
most without perceiving it, there passes, in se- 
cret, an order and disposition of things unknown 
and invisible, which however determines our 
fate to all eternity:’’ 

Since Evans’ and Zacho’s long year of toil and 
suspense in the mine — which the owner had thrown 
over as a rank failure — had blossomed into a golden 
glow of certainty, the camp was a scene of bustle 
and life. The owners of the Tin-Tin lease were 
looked upon as prodigies by the rank and file of the 
camp. The production from the mine promised 
to be almost sensational and there was little fear of 
its “petering out.” Tunnels were run and shafts 
sunk, and the mine, the deeper they went, proved 
more surely all promise. 

“There’s a better color to things now than the 
first night I met you, eh, Zacho? Your heart wasn’t 
in the music-hall business; any one could see that 
at a glance. Not such a bad scheme, after all — it’s 
a four-flush if it’s anything. That was the one and 
only time I figured as a mining promoter. The 
owner didn’t realize that he had a homestaker at 
hand when he threw that over. Things came our 
way. We’ve made good on Tin-Tin mine!” The 


188 


THE TWO HOUSES 


newly-made-rich Evans looked at Zacho as if in- 
viting conversation. 

Flushed with success, Evans lost no time in es- 
tablishing his Angel-Of-The-Lodging-House in a 
showy cottage on the hillside, contiguous to the 
mine. He couldn’t help a little meek braggadocio 
now and then. Never vulgar, he was a good soul, 
unembittered by former hard knocks of fortune, 
and he now basked in the sunshine of good luck 
and the smiles of a wife. 

It was in the shellac-odored parlor of the cottage, 
filled with factory furniture, that the conversation 
took place. Though surrounded by a home atmos- 
phere — Zacho had been ensconsed in the home since 
its inception — the Dane did not look altogether 
happy. Mrs. Evans listened with attention to her 
husband’s remarks. The conversation between the 
men, although usually touching on purely mining 
matters, sometimes included her, which deepened 
the look of love and content in her eyes. But how- 
ever grateful she may have felt over this, she 
rarely broke silence even by a word — if we except 
the language of a speaking eye, a benedictive smile 
— these broke in on the gossip between the pauses 
of her knitting. 

“But I know very well that all down the line 
there was something more than the money question 
with you, Zacho.” Evans was determined to keep 
up his end, and force confidence, and he brought 
his hard fist down on the table with emphasis as he 
repeated, “There was something more than that.” 

It was reasonable enough that Evans should 
think that his partner ought to wear a more smiling 
countenance now that he could aflord to ride high 


THE TWO HOUSES 


189 


and dry on the highway of life. He looked at the 
patrician face before him, which had its own posi- 
tive charm of expression, for Zacho was not one of 
whom it could be said that he was usual in any way, 
and there was a whole world of love and admiration 
in the older man’s eyes. He turned to his wife. 

haven’t told you, have I, Angel-Mary-Gold, — 
if you haven’t guessed it before — that Zacho 
comes from the Big Bonanza — the upper ten of his 
country? He’s had a desperate misunderstanding 
with his family — it was a terrible experience for a 
young fellow to go through. Bad! Very Bad! 
But there’s something else, something even worse 
that causes this deep dejection. There’s a woman 
in the case, that’s all there’s to it!” 

After this broadside hectoring, Zacho felt the full 
force of his partner’s solicitude, his touching 
thoughtfulness. He laid aside his violin, — for it 
was only when playing that the cloud lifted and for- 
getfulness came. In the companionship of his 
partner and that partner’s wife, whose kindliness, 
sweetness and unselfishness made of the home a 
paradise, he found his real pleasure, but it was only 
when his beloved instrument spoke to him in its di- 
vine quaverings that his soul rose above earth and 
earthly things. He could flirt with the bow in an 
abandoned way that at first seemed to be meaning- 
less, but soon the room would be filled with perfect 
harmony, showing an intimate comprehension of 
the deeper meaning of music. And it was not a 
case of when you are in Rome do as the Romans 
do, either, for, whether he was aware of it or not, 
Zacho always conversed with his host and hostess 
as if there was no doubt whatever that they fol- 


190 


THE TWO HOUSES 


lowed the masters with discrimination. Theirs 
might not have been a Mozart's interpretation, and 
their remarks may not have been as poetic and ro- 
mantic as some would have — at least the remarks 
of the host, for his wife’s genial smile and happy 
looks punctuating the pauses were all she ever 
offered. And incidentally, too, when playing Zacho 
forgot all about the wealth that fate had vouch- 
safed him. 

Even in the cottage, with its home-bred air, 
Zacho found it difficult to bring himself to speak of 
that which had lain so close and was so dear to his 
heart; it seemed a travesty of something sacred. 

‘T may as well acknowledge,” he faltered at last, 
while a faint disc of red showed in either cheek, 
“that there is a woman in the case — at least, there 
is and there isn’t. Paradoxical as this may sound, 
it is the truth.” 

Evans looked vastly pleased. His conversational 
bait was about to land disclosures at last. 

“I’ve thought that all along,” he encouraged 
briskly, “but you’re such a shy, keep-to-your-self 
sort of a fellow that I hated to twit you about it. 
Is she back in the old country?” 

“No !” answered Zacho, becoming freer in manner 
now that the ice was broken. “She’s in Seattle — 
at least, she was there a year ago. But I’ve never 
spoken a word to her. I don’t even know her name 
—yes, I heard her called ‘Thesmi’.” 

“Thesmi,” Evans caught up. “That must be a 
pet name — like I’ve given my wife. Doesn’t it suit 
her?” and he looked at his clear-eyed ruddy-faced 
other half with a world of love in his eyes. 

A sobering sense of time swept over Zacho’s 


THE TWO HOUSES 


191 


soul as he continued, “I may never meet her again. 
She may have left Seattle.” He would not say, 
“She may have forgotten.” Anything but that ! 

“Oh, yes, you’ll meet her again, Pard,” Evans 
threw back confidently. “Any man that carries 
around the good luck that you do’s bound to carry 
the deal through. There’ll be no slide in your hill. 
There’ll be a big clean-up some day. Look at me. 
I never struck luck until I met you. Many a time 
when I come ofiF shift I’ve dreamed for hours of 
Tin-Tin mine turning out as it did. It always 
looked good to me. But I had no money. Neither 
had you — and you were a tenderfoot at that — and 
here we are ; we’ve made a good start for a round 
fortune.” Evans never tired of the illuminating 
tale. 

The domestic side of the life of Evans always 
was a revelation to Zacho. It held a charm for 
him. Good dinners, contentment, well-cared for in 
every way, justifiable pride in his Angel and the 
Home, all these helped to round out the man into 
the good-looking, delightful host, very different 
from the cadaverous, mine-fagged man of a few 
months ago. Yet all the favor of fortune carried 
with it a regret. 

“If my mother had only lived long enough for 
this, Zacho,” he would say, passing his rough hand 
with a quick gesture across his eyes. The ineffable 
thing he lost was remembered more than the mater- 
ial things he had won. 

Nor was this side of his life narrowed to himself. 
He did not drop his old associates — who forgave 
him his good fortune. He was loyal to his poorer 
brethren. Not that he did not fully appreciate the 


192 


THE TWO HOUSES 


value of his share of the mine or the prestige of 
being a successful man, but simply that he was the 
embodiment of a right-thinking man — he maintained 
and believed that principle should and must go be- 
fore money, and all his conduct was based upon 
that idea. 

“Drop in tonight,” he was always saying to some 
of the less fortunate ones. “My wife’s got a whale 
of a cake she’s going to cut up. She’s a famous 
cook.” And soon his place became a sort of travel- 
ling home, as it were, for many of those around 
him. And when they did drop in, the warm hand- 
shake, the womanly atmosphere, more than the un- 
usual dainty, filled the men with the priceless cheer 
of home. Evans made no ado about his pride in his 
wife, who always went about her household busi- 
ness with few words. Even if she did lack what is 
often dubbed “culture,” hers was not the any-old- 
way system of life. Many of the men who were 
accustomed to be but roughly civil in manner, 
became affable and polite under this influence. The 
Angel of the lodging house and her kitchen could 
achieve miracles — turn beasts into men. 

That Zacho was not carried away with his good 
fortune, that is, that he was not in a happier mood, 
was what kept Evans fidgeting. In some ways, of 
course, Evans could appear to an outsider con- 
tracted in comparison with the refined Dane. Per- 
haps that was merely a matter of inequality of 
structure. 

Zacho’s admission that there was a woman in the 
case was the last bit of confidence that he had to 
repose in his friend. In the long year of the mine 
game, Evans had the privilege of entering the 


THE TWO HOUSES 


193 


archives of his young friend’s history. All was 
told, even to the selling of papers on the streets of 
Seattle for a living. 

“What are you going to do about it, Zacho?’’ 
Practical Evans was back at the woman question 
again. “She must be high-grade ore or you’d have 
forgotten her before this.” 

“That would be impossible !” emphasized Zacho. 
“Forget her! Never! The memory of her is 
beaten into my brain. It may be all I shall ever 
have — the memory— but that shall be kept sacred. 
Never shall I look at another woman.” 

Evans looked thoughtfully at his companion, say- 
ing quietly, “Go ahead, Zacho. Find her. You’re 
going to Seattle to pay the first year’s expiry install- 
ment on the lease. Take your time and look around. 
Don’t be down-hearted. Confide in me. I’d fight 
for your interests any time. You’ve always a home 
and a welcome here. But there’s little need to tell 
him that, is there, Angel-Mary-Gold ?” Evans 
beamed at his wife and continued: “They are the 
angels who come to us in our need in daily life, 
Zacho. They don’t lend themselves to wings. They 
win haloes without going away to heaven — Angel- 
Mary-Gold does. The house is the most important 
place to be an angel in.” 

“And there’s less need for me to tell you how 
well I know that I’m welcomed and loved in your 
home.” The two men grasped hands across the 
table in true brotherly love. Zacho rose and 
crossed over to where Mrs. Evans sat, saying, “He 
calls you his Angel, but you’re mine, too,” and shak- 
ing hands warmly with the calm soul, Zacho left 
the room. 


194 


THE TWO HOUSES 


Evans turned to his wife. ‘‘Now you under- 
stand, Angel-Mary-Gold, if you haven’t known it 
before, that Zacho’s a gentleman — blue blood and 
all the rest of it. But he’s got an old curmudgeon 
of a father — a high jinks old-school one — who be- 
lieved some evil reports spread by a jealous com- 
panion, — a foul thing hatched on him — refused to 
listen to his son, to believe in his innocence, and 
drove the young fellow to despair. He shipped 
before the mast — left home and all old ties behind, 
penniless, and with but a scant supply of clothes 
and his fiddle. Now you understand, if you haven’t 
known it before, what the aristocrat went through 
— half round the world before the mast and 
dumped down in Seattle — the jumping-off place. 
But it was all the same to him. Port was any- 
where. He’s heard since that it has all been made 
right at home, — his innocence proved, — but he was 
too deeply hurt to give in. His people have been 
searching the globe for him — that is, his father and 
sisters. His mother is dead. She was English 
born — he’s only half Dane. If his mother had lived 
she would have believed in her son — and such a 
son! Wouldn’t she, Angel-Mary-Gold?” 

In spite of his friend’s encouragement in the mat- 
ter of the affair of the heart, Zacho went to Seattle 
without the faintest hope of seeing the girl whose 
image had haunted him since the first night he saw 
her in the moonlight. And even if by accident he 
met her — even if the gods were propitious, what 
then? A thousand stormy questions came up to 
torment his soul. 

As he closed the office door of the Timber In- 
vestment Company, behind him, a girl left a desk 


THE TWO HOUSES 


195 


at the far end of the room and came forward. She 
was very pale, with sunken cheeks, yet with a brave 
carriage that enlisted sympathy at once. Zacho 
gave a quick, breathless look, and saw Thesmi. 
There was not the slightest hesitancy about him 
as he almost ran to meet her — and their hands in an 
instant clasped. Apparently nothing was real to 
him there but that — the thrill of her touch, the regal 
moment, the intensified gaze. It was all simple 
enough; there was no embarrassment, no coyness, 
but all was resolved into gazing into each other’s 
eyes with a heavenly delight. 

“I have called,” Zacho broke the silence with an 
effort, “to make a payment on a mine leased from 
Mr. Gouled. This is his office, is it not? Can I see 
him ?” 

Zacho had entered the office in his complete 
miner’s regalia, for both Evans and himself worked 
around with the crew. A sulky looking clerk looked 
askance at him as he held the hand of his employ- 
er’s daughter, and was for showing him out. 

“Miss Gouled,” he began “this is another of 
those cred ” but she waved him aside. Listen- 

ing at his desk, the clerk was astounded to hear the 
tall, slender young man in mining dress, whom he 
could not have told from a common miner carry- 
ing his only assets, his week’s wages, in his pocket, 
proceeding to explain his business in drawing-room 
English. He was quick to perceive the trained 
enunciation and the gentleman through the grime 
of the mine slop. 

“My father is out of town at present,” Thesmi 
answered Zacho’s request to see her father and 
looked curiously at him when he again alluded to a 


196 


THE TWO HOUSES 


mine. She flushed to the eyes as she added, “My 
father’s business is dealing in timber lands, not 
mines — at least, I don’t know anything about this, 
but the clerk can look it up, and I can give you an 
acknowledgment for the money you pay over.” 

“Then you are ?” Zacho hesitated. 

“Thesmi Gouled. I have charge of my father’s 
office for the present.” Her manner abruptly be- 
came curt, business-like, and she drew aloof as if 
suddenly coming to an understanding of herself. 
She mechanically took the legal form he handed to 
her and read the signature : William Evans, Lauritz 
Zacho. Asking him to be seated, she left him to 
confer with the clerk, who banged the ledger open 
at her bidding and then took a comprehensive view 
of the street before proceeding to run his eye down 
the page. 

After the first flush of joy at meeting Zacho, 
Thesmi became as pale as death. Zacho still looked 
as if he hardly understood. He felt more than saw 
that some unguessed change had taken place since 
he last saw the girl. Her changed appearance, her 
position in her father’s office — and that father the 
man he had often heard Evans discuss so am- 
biguously, and the owner, too, of the mine. This 
tired-looking, wide-eyed girl was not the same as 
the complacent, distinguished looking one he last 
saw at the theatre, — evidently enjoying the prestige 
of the best society. Ostensibly to examine the 
treasures, but in reality to hide his emotion, he 
rose and walked over to the works of art adorning 
the office wall — the inevitable Mount Rainier, maps, 
and what purported to be timber tracts, all in glow- 
ing gilt frames. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


197 


The office door clicked and a man came in as if 
it was no novelty to him, and took a seat, settling 
himself down as if he had come to stay. A quick 
glance showed him Zacho carefully conning the em- 
bellished timber tracts, as he seemingly thought, 
and evidently changing his mind suddenly, he was 
at Zacho’s side in a minute. The man had a high 
nose and thin lips, and looked as if he knew what 
he wanted and could always get it. 

“Another dupe, by !” he hissed in Zacho’s 

ear. 

The latter turned swiftly, but before he could 
frame a question or surmise the man’s meaning, 
Thesmi approached and handed Zacho the docu- 
ment, bidding him look over it to see that it was 
correct. 

“Yes,” broke in the man insolently, “look it over 
good. If it’s one of those infernal tracts you’ve 
paid for ” 

“I have told you not to come around here any 
more.” It was Thesmi who spoke, but her voice 
was so stern, so altered, that Zacho looked for con- 
firmation at the girl herself. And that did not help 
him. Shame, annoyance, grief were all depicted so 
plainly on her face that Zacho turned, a very tor- 
nado, and seized her hands. 

“Let me help you! What does this mean?” 

“It is nothing. Please go !” she entreated. 
“When my father returns ” 

“Yes, when your father returns,” sneered the 
man, but moving off as he spoke. The unpleasant 
laugh that followed again caused Zacho to turn. 
But again Thesmi waved him away, this time im- 
periously. 


198 


THE TWO HOUSES 


The man followed Zacho to the door and allowed 
him to pass out. He then turned back to the office, 
and taking a bite of tobacco almost in the girl’s 
face, brutally told her he would come back when 
her father returned. 

He hastened after Zacho, throwing a coax into 
his voice to arrest attention. 

“Say, you look a good sort. I’ve nothing against 
the girl — don’t get riled — she’s a trump. But my 
temper gets the better of me every time I enter that 
door, and I want to kill somebody or do something. 
Why can’t she tell where her father is and be done 
with it? How rnuch have you paid for your — er — 
er timber claim ? It’s all bogus !” Again the dis- 
agreeable laugh rang out. “I thought that you 
looked like the same kind of people as the ones old 
Gouled’s been guying, and I consider it a disgrace 
to let any man get into his toils, so I’m warning 
you. How much have you dropped?” The man 
evidently believed in upholding the majesty of his 
conscience by trying to save his fellow man from 
being duped. 

“What do you mean?” demanded Zacho, his 
hands clenched in an instant. 

“I mean just what I say, no more, no less. That 
scoundrel Gouled’s been playing fast and loose with 
everybody’s money. He hasn’t a timber claim in 
the world. He’s hiding. I don’t say I’m not sorry 
for the girl. I saw you make a payment for — er — 
er a timber tract. Ha, ha !” 

“If I understand your meaning,” said Zacho 
stiffly, “your enquiry, how much I have paid for a 
timber claim. I’ll say I haven’t paid anything. I’ve 


THE TWO HOUSES 199 

nothing to do with that business.” He was dis- 
gusted, but enormously interested. 

“You haven’t paid money on a timber-tract prop- 
osition? Well! That’s queer 1 I was dead sure 
you’d been roped in and I wanted to give you a 
pointer or two.” 

Zacho strode on without taking heed to his where- 
abouts, and only hoping to drop the barnacle of a 
man, who kept up a running fire of expletives and 
threats. He stopped suddenly and looked around. 
Unconsciously he had followed where his steps had 
so often led in the past — near his own old shelter in 
the beachcomber’s village. For an instant he gazed 
out over the bay as if his mind had wandered to a 
little Danish town where the sands were forever 
shifting — as they were doing here at his feet — 
where the sea and the wide reach of skies left their 
impress on every one — as they left here in this far 
Western corner. 

The man stopped also. He was moving off after 
bidding goodbye and apologizing in his rough way, 
saying that he had meant all he said as a warning 
and in kindness. 

“That’s the Gouled home,” he informed as he 
was moving away, and he pointed to the canary- 
colored house on the blpff. “It’s mortgaged to the 
door. It’s for sale. I haven’t been idle. I’ve 
found out a lot. A fellow has to look out when 
he’s handed over his last cent and finds out that 
he’s been cheated. I’ve found out too that the girl 
in the office is Gouled’s only daughter and was 
brought up to think herself a princess so far as 
money was concerned. I’ve found out, too, that 
when the foreclosure takes place she won’t have 


200 


THE TWO HOUSES 


a roof over her head. She’ll have to get out. The 
clerk in the office has been pretty straight with me 
— when I can get him alone. He’s drawn no pay 
for weeks. He’s about to quit. I shouldn’t wonder 
but that the money you paid over’ll get the supper 
up at the big house tonight. I hear that the butcher 
and baker and candle-stick-maker have all quit.” 
The man seemed to take a coarse delight in the fine 
detailing of the bankruptcy. 


20i 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

The Burial of Althoth. 

“As the love of Christ hath power with the 
elect, so hath power in its degree the love of a 
man for his friend.” 

Zacho’s suppressed excitement was at once noticed 
by Evans on his hasty return to Coeur d’ Alene. 
Ever on the alert where his young friend wab con- 
cerned, he asked at once, 

“You’ve found the girl, haven’t you? There’s no 
need to ask you, though, it’s written all over you 
large; you can’t hide it.” He gave a low chuckle 
and snapped his fingers at his wife, who replied 
with la bright look at her lodger. “I told you your 
good luck would follow you.” Evans settled back 
in his chair with the air of a judge. 

“Well, there’s not so very much of the good luck, 
as you call it, following me around yet,” Zacho 
answered seriously. “But I’ve seen the girl, as you 
say, and I’ve found out wihere she lives and who she 
is — and — and I’ve found out a good deal more than 
that before I left Seattle.” Zacho dropped his head 
and remained silent as if lost in thought, while the 
other occupants of the parlor watched him with eyes 
full of tender solicitude. Suddenly he raised his 
head and looked at Evans, saying in a low tense 
voice, “I must have money — at once — a large sum. 
I ought to be back in Seattle now.” 

Evans and his wife looked no more flustered than 
if he had said he wanted a penny. 


202 


THE TWO HOUSES 


“There’s a story around, piard. Hand it over. 
Let her go. Open the sluices.” Evans was sitting 
bolt upright, a didn’t-I-tell-you look on his face 
and his chair snuggled up as close to Zacho’s as he 
could get it. 

When Zacho had finished his narrative, given 
with hesitancy at times and eagerness at others, the 
click of Angel-Mary-Gold’s knitting needles was 
all that broke the silence for a full minute. 

“Didn’t the girl tell you where her father was?” 
Evans was humping his chair still closer to Zacho’s, 
greedily drinking in every word and look. 

“No. But there was no time nor opportunity for 
conversation. She wias harassed— in trouble.” A 
spasm crossed Zacho’s face as some scene came 
before him. Controlling himself, he continued, “Be- 
sides, what right had I to question her — to pry into 
her affairs ? I’ve told you all I know. But we must 
assist her — at once — now !” 

“You are quite sure that the home is to be sold? 
The fellow who was so free with his information 
may have been salting the story — giving you dump.” 
Immense interest and concern lit up every linea- 
ment of the old miner’s face. 

“I didn’t take the man’s word for it. Here it is.” 
Zacho produced a carefully folded newspaper from 
his pocket and spread it out on the table before 
Evans. 

“That’s the Gouled all right — that’s the man.” 
Eyans had pored over every word more than once, 
as if to make doubly sure of the information. “But 
I can’t understand where the old fellow is,” he 
puzzled. “It’s not altogether like him — as I knew 
him — to leave his daughter in the lurch in this way. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


203 


I always had my suspicions about his money 
affairs — the sums he would drop was something to 
think about. But he appeared to be a fine man and 
everybody liked him. He was popular, too, with 
the miners. They knew he was a valuable asset. 
He was identified with large interests and was fav- 
orably known. He stood for financial solidity. I 
can’t understand the business at all. I never knew 
he had a daughter. Assist her! We’ll assist her, 
by all that’s sacred! Eh, Angel-Mary-Gold ?” 
The name always seemed to tickle Evans’ fancy, 
and he rolled it out now with great unction. “Buy 
in the home for the girl, Zacho.” He was back at 
business again. “We’ll go to the bank at once and 
have things fixed up. Now that the productions 
from the mine are increasing daily, you can draw 
what amount you want. You’d better get back, as 
you say, to Seattle at once and watch proceedings — 
watch close ! Send a note to the girl, saying that 
she can keep possession until notified to leave. 
Sign my name. Notified to leave ! See a girl 
homeless ! And Gouled’s daughter at that ! I al- 
ways had a warm feeling for my old boss. And as 
I said before, I can’t understand how he came to 
leave the girl in that fix. If you don’t want her to 
think that she’s under obligation to you — if you 
think that would be a hindrance to her accepting 
favors — make use of my name. We’ll straighten 

things out later. Until she’s notified to leave! 

Which will be a long time, eh, Angel-Mary Gold?” 
Evans was worked up to a fine frenzy, and strode 
up and down the room, exclaiming, “We’ll see this 
thing through to a finish !” 


THE TWO HOUSES 


204 

The men made arrangements to meet at the bank 
at a certain hour and Zacho left the room. 

“Now, Angel-Mary-Gold,” Evans nodded, his 
voice edged with confidence, “d’ye see the change 
in the man? He’s got fire and life in him now, and 
that was what I’ve wanted to see. I told you there 
was a woman in the case. He’s bound to get her, 
even as he got the ten-strike. I’m not superstitious, 
but luck dogs some men’s footsteps ; they can’t 
get away from it. If you haven’t known it before, 
Angel-Mary-Gold, it never was the money part that 
bothered him. He’s not the kind to fret to death 
about money — but he’s deucedly glad of it at this 
time. There’s nothing like having the good coin 
in your pocket.” Evans pondered for a minute and 
then burst out again : “What a mix-up ! Gouled’s 
mine and Gouled’s daughter ! Poverty where there 
was plenty and plenty where there was poverty ! 
And the whole thing rattling around our ears at 
the rate of a mile a minute. But there’ll be a big 
clean-up before long. We’ll have him in a home of 
his own. Though a man’s business may be a suc- 
cess, he’s only half living that doesn’t have a home 
of his own — and he can’t have that without assist- 
ance.” Evans was in his glory. Match-making 
suited his taste better even than money-making. It 
was his wife’s taste too, from the expression of her 
face when she heard of the pleasant conspiracy to 
buy the home, to bring about a happy state of 
affairs. 

Evans started to leave the room, but turned and 
added, “If you haven’t known it before, Angel- 
Mary-Gold, I never loved a man as I love Zacho. 
And the miners to a man adore him, — even though 


THE TWO HOUSES 


205 


he’s proved an exception to the rule and never 
drank nor gambled. He and you are the mascots 
of the camp.” 

Evans was safe in making the last assertion, as 
the most casual observer would admit upon wit- 
nessing the motley groups assembled in the Evans 
home, where Zacho dispensed music — which Evans 
declared crept into his crevices and worked him all 
up — and Angel-Mary-Gold cake and other dainties. 
But more than all was served up to them the new 
sense of home and comfort, and brought so gently 
near to them by the woman, who found here her 
responsible commission in life and unassumingly 
answered it. 

It must not be supposed that Zacho’s friendship 
was less warm than his friend’s — that friend who 
had been all in all to him at a time when his mind 
had been little less than morbid, owing to the out- 
rageous suspicions of his own family and the con- 
sequent distress entailed thereby. Indeed, Zacho 
well knew that it was largely due to Evans that he 
was saved from the indifference of an unrespon- 
sive world. He often told Angel-Mary-Gold all 
this, bringing tears to her eyes as she listened, and 
to what extremes he might have been fprced but 
for the lucky meeting. He told her that he feared 
deterioration in any way, and it always seemed a 
wonder to him that this bluff-spoken, warm-hearted 
man, impervious to the assaults of coarser passions 
as he knew him to be, should have taken the inter- 
est in him that he did, an interest which encom- 
passed his whole life now with vital wholesome- 
ness. He felt indeed that so far as a home and 


206 


THE TWO HOUSES 


friends conduced to happiness, his lot had fallen 
in pleasant places. 

On the way to the Timber Investment Company’s 
office in Seattle, Zacho’s movements betrayed his 
excitement. At times his steps were buoyant, as if 
he trod another realm; a lagging gait would suc- 
ceed this, and once or twice he stopped altogether 
as if revolving some scheme in his mind. As he 
drew nearer, a happy light in his eyes told that one 
thought alone held him — the thought that he would 
soon see Thesmi. He had planned with Evans that 
if Gouled should have returned in the meantime, he 
was to offer to the bankrupt man assistance. See- 
ing that he was the owner of the mine, some under- 
standing must be arrived at whereby his immediate 
necessities could be relieved. 

A disappointment awaited him at the office. 
“Miss Gouled has not been here since your visit. 
Illness in the home — death — the old fellow died 
yesterday — a distant relative, I think,” the clerk 
informed carelessly. “And where they’ll get the 
money to bury him is more than anyone can tell,” 
he added gratuitously, looking his hearer critically 
over. “I’m just hanging on for a few days more 
to see how things turn out, and then I quit.” It was 
the noon hour, and he banged the door shut and 
turned the key with a snap as he followed Zacho to 
the street. 

“Not means enough for burial purposes?” The 
shocked look on Zacho’s face brought a slight sense 
of decency at last to the clerk, who answered 
civilly enough thereafter the queries of the first man 
for a long time who had brought money to the 
office instead of demanding it. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


207 


After a little parleying, Zacho touched the young 
man on the shoulder and nodded, “Dine with me. 
I want to have a talk with you.” 

With a sniffy air the clerk, who considered his 
dignity, accepted, saying, “Well, that comes as a 
surprise. I haven’t drawn salary enough lately for 
a fly to dine upon.” 

“Your back salary will be made good — to the full, 
if you will follow my instructions,” Zacho promised 
meaningly, bending over his companion. “It may 
pay you to be a little more obliging and 
confidential.” 

“What are your instructions? I thought from 
the first that you were somebody. You’ve dropped 
your miner’s rig and look stunning. I hardly knew 
you at first. Who are you, anyway?” The clerk 
again measured the stranger from top to toe. 

Under the guise of offering condolence, the clerk 
hastened to the house of mourning, as directed by 
Zacho. He was ushered into the hall at an ex- 
cruciating moment by Callimachus, who had been 
installed by his mother as door-keeper and chief 
factotum of the occasion. It was one of those 
dreadful affairs in life when even death itself was 
robbed of any majesty it should have, where the 
dollar and cent was so obviously and theatrically 
the principle to be acted upon. The undertaker, 
who had underbidden another and was prating 
sanctimoniously about it, was demanding the full 
expense of the funeral in advance. Thesmi was 
offering a few personal trinkets, in addition to a 
sum she had already tendered, which Callimachus 
and his mother had brought to the house, their 
whole fortune, but the equivalent for the funeral 


208 


THE TWO HOUSES 


was not there. The mute was as inexorable as 
Charon and his penny. Thesmi turned a be- 
seeching look upon the clerk. Apparently she was 
on the verge of collapse. He immediately took the 
functionary of the charnel-house aside, spoke a few 
magic words, and drew from his pocket a roll of 
still more magic potency for the inspection of that 
dignitary, who thereupon immediately withdrew 
with solemn but brisk steps to make an entirely new 
and more elaborate arrangement for the sepulture. 

Zacho attended the funeral next day. He had 
not entered the house, respecting the sacred de- 
tails, the last look and leave-taking of the dead, but, 
moist-eyed, watched Thesmi and her aunt, accom- 
panied by Signa, all three closely veiled, descend 
the steps and enter the carriage, the door of which 
the now obsequious care-taker held open for them. 
In company with the clerk, he entered the only 
other carriage called for, and the little cortege 
slowly wound its way to the last Inn. 

On the return trip, the clerk was for bidding 
Zacho goodbye, the good dollars in his pocket burn- 
ing holes therein until he could order what he called 
a “Delmonica Dinner.” He even began to show a 
little temper when Zacho requested him to wait 
around the neighborhood for a time before again 
entering the Gouled home to solicit an interview for 
him with Miss Gouled. He was instructed to say 
that a matter of urgent business made the inter- 
view necessary. The clerk smiled rather knowingly 
and looked quizzically at the swiftly changing color 
and excitable movements of his chief. 

“I don’t see that a matter of business calls for 
such frenzied haste,” the clerk remarked lightly. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


209 


"‘Fd rather not break in upon the family at this 
time, but the hurry-spin seems to have taken hold 
of you and you’ll be cutting your dinner in two in 
order to ” 

Zacho cut off the clerk’s speech with a movement. 
It was an impatient as well as an imperative one — 
he was in no mood to be dictated to, and without 
another word the clerk vanished within the home. 
He soon reappeared, beckoning his companion from 
the top step — waving him in as a “barker” sweeps 
in an imaginary crowd at a fair. This was all that 
Zacho bargained for — the clerk’s entree into the 
home had served its purpose, and he waved him 
aside as soon as he was ushered into Thesmi’s 
presence. 

As she came slowly forward to greet him, the 
late western sun streamed in on her face, which was 
paler than he had conceived it possible to be. But 
the extreme pallor had only added a deeper charm. 
Something was being added to each feature with 
every hard knock of fate. Indeed, her neighbor 
was constantly affirming, “You never looked as 
beautiful, even when you had all sorts of money, 
Miss Thesmi.” 

“How can I thank you. Miss Gouled, for grant- 
ing me this interview at this time? Nothing but 
my extreme desire to be of assistance to you drove 
me to this measure. I can assure you that I had 
intended delaying this meeting until you had time 

to regain your composure, but — but ” Bathed 

at last in the certainty that he was in Thesmi’s pres- 
ence, that he had gained access to her home, the 
wine of excitement was fast mounting to Zacho’s 
head. He blurted out a sympathetic phrase or two. 


210 


THE TWO HOUSES 


then broke into his wonderful news — the paying 
mine, the money at his command, the consuming 
desire of his partner and himself to render assist- 
ance — nay, the determination to turn over part of 
the proceeds to bring about a better state of affairs. 
All the man's instinct, business instinct, and the 
man's sense of a woman's need of a protector, over- 
ruled every other consideration; even putting his 
usual diffidence aside for the time being, that it 
might be made plain that she must suffer no more 
for lack of means. 

The color had mounted to Thesmi's face when 
he began to speak, and flushing still more under 
her first surprise, she looked incredulous, as if it 
could not be that the story had any feature of 
probability. But the passion in the man's voice 
roused her from her apathy. She had heard every 
word, yet it was as if she had not heard aright. 
She was vaguely aware that he was beginning to 
speak again, that he was giving figures. 

“This is a minimum estimate of its future value, 
I should say." 

As he endeavored to proceed, she cried “Stop. 

You " The tremor in her voice betrayed her 

emotion, and she looked wonderingly up at the man 
standing there before her in the full glow of superb 
manhood. His appearance in a modish suit, which 
the clerk had designated as “stunning," brought 
admiration to her eyes in spite of herself. It was 
the first time — the only time — she had ever been 
alone with him, and a thrill of ecstacy rushed 
through her whole being. 

In well-ordered, neatly arranged lives, where 
everything is kept in its proper place, it may be 


THE TWO HOUSES 


211 


more unlikely for affiliated beings to rush together 
and discover their relations to each other, — as 
chemicals inconsequently mixed, but inherent of 
inviolable law, sometimes discover new and perfect 
products. And one authority says that these recog- 
nitions come only at some great height. 

Modest of bearing, soft of voice, with just a 
faint elusive trace of a foreign accent, Zacho bore 
the imprint of culture and refinement — as was 
readily recognized by the clerk even through his 
miner’s garb. 

Thesmi had a swift vision of a whilom paper 
carrier, a scene in a theatre, a moonlight night — it 
was more like a snap-shot — and now — this ! At 
the thought of the many unusual conjunctions, 
some incongruity assailed her, or her overwrought 
feelings had to find vent, and she actually laughed — 
a low gurgling ripple. And through it all the man 
before her, looking at her with a concentrated love 
that she had never seen on the face of anyone, 
breathed but of music and love to her — and noth- 
ing else. 

Suddenly Zacho became conscious, distrait, and 
looked as if he was ready to leave the room. He 
seemed aware of his intrusion, and could only look 
around in wonder to find himself in the girl’s home 
and daring to take such liberties. 

“How can I thank you? No, don’t go yet. I 
have much to say to you. I suppose that dreadful 
man you met in the office informed you of our 
liabilities and standing. But I can assure you that 
when my father returns something will be done — 
something must be done.” With this rather in- 
coherent assurance Thesmi stopped short. After a 


212 


THE TWO HOUSES 


moment’s thought, she murmured, “It must have 
been you that provided the funeral. I know now 
how it all came about. The clerk would tell me 
nothing, but I saw you at the grave, and something 
told me that it was you. How can I ever thank 
you ? Why should we always meet this way ? What 
can this be?” 

Confidence seemed to have returned to Zacho at 
hearing her words. He had dismissed the subject 
of mines and money after informing her that his 
partner and himself would wait upon her in the 
near future. The presence of the woman so 
charged with all that appealed to him, at times 
seemed to transfix him. 

“Why should we always meet this way? you 
ask. There never was a question in my mind after 
the first meeting. Nothing else could have been 
possible than that we should meqt again. The en- 
chantment of that night! The sensations of sur- 
prise and unexpected happiness when I stepped out 
of my shed and found myself confronting You! 
How many times afterwards did I try to describe 
you in detail to myself I How could I forget the 
picture? You were a part of the soft tones of the 
moonlight ; you were not to be forgotten. And you 
— you remembered.” Zacho looked as if he had 
entered into a thing so fair, so happy, so God-given, 
that there could be no doubt in the matter. He 
looked, too, all ardor of soul. He was transported. 
There was no other woman to compare with her; 
and no other eyes that could fire his soul with such 
fervor. There was no cold, chiseled ice here, but 
all was color, warmth and emotion. Zacho had no 
inclination to analyze things, no inclination just 


THE TWO HOUSES 213 

then to reduce the meeting to its ultimate object — 
money and business. 

And to Thesmi, Zacho stood alone, high and 
noble, on the pinnacle of her ideal heights. 

At the leave-taking, Thesmi was suddenly over- 
whelmed with the sense of the position she was 
placing herself in — her duplicity. She was duping 
this man into believing that she was free, while 
but a short time ago another stood in his place. She 
became embarrassed, cold, and acquiesced curtly 
to the request to hear what he and his partner had 
to say on the matter of turning over part of the 
profits of the mine as soon as he notified his part- 
ner to com'e to Seattle, which Evans was holding 
himself in readiness to do. 

As she sat alone in the very empty house after 
the leave-taking, Thesmi looked as if things were 
all out of focus. Not that for a moment she 
doubted her feelings for the musician, — nor the 
wisdom of the way they had come together. All 
that was as it should be ; that was the way to love — 
mysteriously, spontaneously, with only the two of 
them in the count. But the realization of her own 
conduct was what excited her into a withering 
trepidation. True, there was a certain assuage- 
ment in the certaifity that all along she subcon- 
sciously knew that the affair with Ralph Allingham 
would be broken off. But this sedative did not quite 
silence the question of truth put to herself. She 
felt that she had been figuring against fate — and 
agencies more powerful than mortals can usually 
cope with. In this matter, her own personality 
seemed to have been tied down somewhere, back 
where she could not find it. 


214 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

Business. 

“A friend in need is a friend indeed." 

Mindful of her promise to meet Zacho and his 
partner, Thesmi strove to be in readiness. Hour 
after hour, distasteful and foreign to her nature 
though it was, she pored over documents and 
figures in an effort to comprehend the affairs of her 
father and the sum total of all that had been turned 
over to him for investment. She went to the office 
and returned with an armful of documents. Away 
from the prying eyes of the clerk, in her father’s 
room, with intensified care, she noted dates, en- 
tries, statements and amounts due. 

The Allingham memoranda, concerning both 
mother and son, were the last to be found. These 
were what she wanted to see most — or did she want 
to see them? She touched them as if they would 
shrivel her fingers. The amounts ! The indebted- 
ness presented itself to her in appalling clearness. 
Enormously large the figures loomed before her. 
Her breath sang through her lungs as she labor- 
iously summed up all. A faintness came over her 
there alone in the room at the vortex of evidence 
of her father’s duplicity. She arose and left the 
room, literally “walking backward with averted 
face,” and sought refuge in the restful atmosphere 
of her Den before she could complete the work. 

Sitting there she suddenly recalled, as if in mock- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


215 


ery, a paper heroine placed in some such situation 
as herself, but who solved the difficulty by throwing 
responsibility to the winds and going off with the 
“other fellow,’’ as in the story. A wan smile 
crossed her face as the cheap solution rose up be- 
fore her. 

Thesmi was not one whose most significant 
traits could readily speak through the outward 
senses. The intensity of her nature betrayed itself 
largely in this dogged adherence to duty, and to the 
best that was in her. With no encouragement, she 
held on to the failing fortunes of her house. Driven 
on by such a sweep of events, she was actuated by 
a distinct purpose — to make restitution as far as 
lay in human power. And if she took a mental 
tumble backward and thought of serener hours, be- 
fore she was thrust forth into this aftermath of 
turmoil and wretchedness, who shall blame? 

When she returned to the work she took up her 
father’s English correspondence, which had re- 
mained unopened all this time. Even if she had 
had no other evidence, through these letters alone 
she was enlightened deeply as to the extent of the 
money transactions. In the later letters, Ralph an- 
nounced that in event of his not returning to Seat- 
tle as early as at first intended, a business friend in 
Vancouver would call on Mr. Gouled, and any 
change in business or other matters might be en- 
trusted safely to him. Surprise, couched in polite 
but emphatic language, was expressed at the long 
silence of his correspondent, and closed with the 
hope that all was well. 

And all this time too, Thesmi’s own correspond- 
ence had remained unanswered. The reason for 


216 


THE TWO HOUSES 


this was to gain time — a subterfuge. She hoped 
thus to ward ofif Ralph’s return. For every letter 
breathed of impatience to come back to consum- 
mate matters, to acquaint her father, who must have 
returned from the mountains long before now. The 
whole episode had now become so repugnant to 
Thesmi that the only relief she found was in putting 
it from her, and one of the letters, the last one, 
she opened only at this time. As in the other let- 
ters, a deep complaint was entered at the unaccount- 
able silence of his correspondents. It was not to 
be understood. But it was a postscript, dated a 
day later, that caused her to sit up sharply. This 
was an announcement of the Mater’s sudden and 
dangerous illness, with an addendum that, even if 
present conditions were overcome, the convales- 
cence promised to be tardy. It was out of the 
question for him to leave England at this time ; and 
the letter closed begging her to write him at once. 

It was a few days after the cruel evidence of the 
enormity of her father’s swindle — and she could 
only half-surmise where the money had gone, for 
there were no entries of investment anywhere — that 
Thesmi waited in momentary expectation of Zacho 
and his partner. She sat close to Sophy, occasion- 
ally glancing over the sheet of paper containing the 
amount of defalcation in her hand. 

“I don’t know you. Miss Thesmi, when you 
pucker up your brows like that. You that never 
knew what the meaning of money was ! Throw the 
worry to the winds, that’s a dear !” 

It was Sophy who was advising. Scarcely a day 
passed now, since Thesmi had wholly confided in 
her, that she did not bring in her sewing and sit 


THE TWO HOUSES 217 

awhile with the girl, if no work in the big house 
was ready. 

“Be a dear, sweet girl,’^ she murmured on, “and 
that’s all that’ll ever be asked of you. You’re free 
now; you’ve no longer Althoth to care for. Your 
aunt — oh, well, I could see to her. Just be a dear, 
sweet girl and never mind the money. I like your 

Dane, Miss Thesmi. He’s ” 

“Who wouldn’t like him, Sophy ? He’s, he’s ” 

“Your mate,” supplied Sophy promptly, “your 
own mate. Now the Englishman’d never break 
his heart over you — even you! He’s just a fine fel- 
low, but he’d find another loving, sweet girl, and his 
hurt would heal suddenly.” 

Thesmi’s face flamed. Unconsciously her neigh- 
bor was setting up things that she had never dared 
do for herself. She threw up her hands a little im- 
patiently and exclaimed. 

“Oh, Sophy, please don’t speak of him. It hurts 
here,” and her spread fingers covered her bosom. 

“But the Dane, Miss Thesmi,” Sophy kept on, 
ignoring the command, “he’d never console himself 
that way. He’d just long and suffer if he ever lost 
you. I knew all the time that you weren’t satisfied 
with the Englishman. Now that you’ve told me 
everything,” she leaned over and whispered close 
in Thesmi’s ear, “be a dear, loving girl and never 
mind the money at all but just run away with — with 

the Dane. I like him. He ” 

“Sophy!” ejaculated Thesmi, breathless. There 
was a second’s silence. A divine light spread over 
the girl’s face as she whimpered back, “But what 

girl wouldn’t rather do that than ” 

Aunt Meg announced a caller — the agent, or 


218 


THE TWO HOUSES 


friend mentioned in Ralph’s letter. The sheet of 
paper was still in Thesmi’s hand, as if, buzzard- 
like, it had attracted him. He bore a letter of 
introduction to her father. He explained that he 
had been some days in Seattle, and had spent con- 
siderable time at the office, where he expected to 
find Mr. Gouled. At the suggestion of the clerk, 
who was extremely obliging, and had informed him 
that she was attending to her father’s affairs, he had 
made bold to call. 

The man was stiff with importance and authority 
and spoke with an imitation English accent. 

He dwelt with some elaborateness on the absolute 
confidence the Allinghams reposed in her father 
and the high esteem in which the American f^-mily 
was held. After he had proceeded for some time in 
this strain, in a sanctimonious voice, he lost his 
temper and became excited, finally waxing into ob- 
scure invectives against timber agents in general 
and Mark Gouled in particular. 

Although Thesmi was not unprepared for the 
visit, after the mention made in the letter, she 
certainly was unprepared for what followed. The 
agent undoubtedly supposed that he had unearthed 
a hitherto unsuspected swindle; and in his zeal for 
his countryman’s interests, hurried on without wait- 
ing to choose his language, — which not infrequently 
savored of Billingsgate, openly telling the delicate 
bred girl that since his arrival in Seattle he had 
heard ugly reports of the investor’s affairs. He 
evidently believed that he was doing the grand act 
in the play. At this point he lost all sense of what 
was due to a woman — or any one else for the mat- 


THE TWO HOUSES 219 

ter of that — and flourishing a paper he held in his 
hand in her face, shouted, 

“A neatly turned game ! It’s out of the question, 
of course, to ask you where your father is.” 

“A game ! What do you mean ?” Thesmi’s tone 
was contempt itself. 

“Yes! a game! The one you are in with your 
father. A smart scheme, well planned. And it’s 
my belief that you had more to do with this swindle 
than your father; you’re a party to the whole 
affair.” 

“You say you were at the office before you came 
here. Then I can readily understand who threw 
this color upon things. And I will not listen to any- 
thing more you may have to say.” Thesmi had 
risen and faced the man, her face so white, her 
eyes so dark, that he involuntarily took a step away 
from her, muttering to himself something about 
“a girl’s face that could hoodwink his friend into 
light love and bankruptcy; and that that was what 
became of trapesing around among smart Ameri- 
cans.” His friend had been duped. 

Given a little authority, the agent had certainly 
made the most of it. He had not even asked the 
woman what explanation she had to offer, if any. 
Although all this was entirely unwarranted, Thesmi 
construed it at once as being authorized by the 
Allinghams, and like a wild thing scurrying to 
cover, she sank at first nearly out of sight in a great 
arm-chair. She now pointed to the door dramatic- 
ally, saying in a choked voice, 

“Leave your address. I will communicate with 
you relative to this affair — the whole matter, never 
fear.” 


220 


THE TWO HOUSES 


He still remained standing near the door, mut- 
tering, “Business is business,” when she burst upon 
him in her wrath. 

“You may have been authorized to say all this 
to me — yet I can hardly believe it. Your friend 
could not have got a more zealous — or more un- 
gentlemanly — person than you are to look after his 
interests. And you can convey, with my compli- 
ments, to your English people the information that 
if many frauds have been committed by ‘smart 
Americans,^ — many more have been erroneously 
charged to them.” 

Just as the agent was leaving the house, Evans 
and Zacho entered. He was still muttering unsav- 
ory remarks and looked not unlike a rumpled ferret. 
Zacho started and made a move as if to intercept 
him, evidently recalling with dismay the imperti- 
nences and importunities of the other man he had 
met in the office. 

At sight of Zacho, Thesmi ran to meet him, and 
with something of a child’s abandon, threw herself 
against him for an instant, exclaiming, 

“Money ! Money ! I must have money ! That 
man! That man!” 

Thesmi had not intended to agonize over the 
money, but the outrageousness of the agent swept 
her on. 

She now drew away from Zacho, wringing her 
hands. With a mighty effort she drew herself up, 
as if realizing what she had done, and motioned 
them to be seated. She wore deep black and her 
thin, pallid face had taken on a curiously old look — 
or rather a wise look — desperate, like an animal 
driven to seek any chance of escape — at bay. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


221 


^'Money ! That’s the very thing we’ve got, Miss 
Gouled, if that’s all that’s needed. It’s your father’s 
mine, and we don’t see why you should hesitate a 
minute to accept assistance. Tin-Tin mine’s good 

for and then some.” Evans had not waited for 

an introduction. The loneliness and distress of the 
girl carried him off his feet at once. He had a 
soft throat with a wonderful musical quality in it, 
and this with his whole-souled, cordial manner threw 
cheer on the situation at once. He enumerated his 
gilt-edged securities with true miner’s enthusiasm, 
and dropped into a chair with frank delight after 
scanning Thesmi. He had fallen at once under her 
subtle personal attraction. At the meeting between 
her and Zacho he had wriggled in enjoyment, mut- 
tering to himself, “It certainly looks like a fine 
prospect. There’s splendid surface showings. 
There’s no medium-grade ore blocked out here. 
Zacho’s skyrocketed to away up levels, even if it was 
a first-sight affair.” 

The Welshman was far more concerned appar- 
ently with the personality, the character, of Thesmi, 
for the time being, than with the business matter — 
a consideration that was paramount evidently, for 
did not that in turn affect the welfare largely of his 
beloved partner? 

Perhaps it was well that Evans had shouldered 
impulsively the role of spokesman, for ever since 
Thesmi’s collapse on his breast, Zacho looked as if 
he was just returning from the ends of the earth ; as 
if he bore in his heart a golden happiness, that 
excluded all business, all sordidness. He stood for 
a moment breathless, looking as if, by doing so he 
might recapture the thrill of the moment when she 


222 


THE TWO HOUSES 


had dropped and he had held her, warm and palpi- 
tating, to his heart, and as if they had met sud- 
denly and for the first time on some distant star. 
He jerked his head up at last as from a dream, 
and standing before her cried out, 

“Let us understand each other. Let us assist 
you. Let us come to some agreement.” 

“Yes! Yes! I’ll come to any agreement so that 
1 can have money — in some business way. I — I — ” 
Thesmi seemed incapable of composing herself. 

“You know. Miss Gouled,” Zacho continued 
earnestly, “the lease runs for three or four years 
yet. We’ll do all that we can for you. How 
soon — ?” 

“Oh, I can’t wait that long! Now ! Now I must 
have money!” The girl spoke in a high falsetto 
voice so unlike her own that Zacho hardly recog- 
nized it. 

“Yes, yes,” broke in Evans soothingly. “You 
shall have the money just as soon as we can com- 
plete arrangements with the bank. Have you any 
idea of the amount you will require?” He was 
determined to hold her down to business. 

Thesmi cast a grateful look at the old miner and 
more composedly answered, “I have thought that 
since Zacho — Mr. Lauritz — was so kind — that if 
I could get half the proceeds of the mine immedi- 
ately — that is, the money — the other half could be 
turned over to you — the lessees — as long as the mine 
produced. That is, if it will be legal for me to act 
in this way. That is for you to decide.” 

“Legal or not, you can have the money; your 
word will be quite sufficient.” Evans gave his part- 


THE TWO HOUSES 223 

ner little opportunity for a word; and that much- 
interested partner looked all he did not say. 

“The amount — you have it there?” The older 
man reached out a broad hand for the sheet. 

As if the woman was suddenly stricken dumb, 
she motioned for the men to draw up to the table. 
Standing behind them, she reached over and placed 
the paper between them, and withdrew to the other 
end of the room. 

Zacho had looked up into her face an instant 
when she was about to place the paper, and her 
proximity seemed to have intoxicated him, for 
Evans had to nudge him roughly before he too bent 
his eyes on the sheet. 

At first the men were inclined to treat the black- 
and-white etching as a silly joke with a certain 
amount of truth back of it, or to assume that there 
was here a not very clear comprehension of the cor- 
rect use of figures. Evans slowly followed the out- 
lines of the clusters of multi-figures with a precise 
fore-finger, and the amount seemed to bulk larger 
than ever. 

Thesmi came forward slowly and stood close to 
the men, and they both looked in her eyes for an 
instant. She shook her head, as if afraid to trust her 
voice. Then her brow puckered, as if she guessed 
that the figures gave the men an unconscious 
psychological effect of notation, and snatching the 
sheet from the table she turned to a small writing 
desk, thought an instant with pen in hand, then 
wrote in a flaring, if shaky, hand — converted the 
numerals into words — and the words embraced a 
very positive statement — and placed the sheet as 
before in front of the men. 


224 


THE TWO HOUSES 


The old miner turned and for an instant swept 
the girl with a doubting eye. She frowned as if she 
nursed the impression that she was being investi- 
gated, especially by the impersonal-eyed Evans, who 
asked, 

“You have not made a mistake, have you. Miss 
Gouled? All this amount at once?” 

“No, there is no mistake about the whole amount, 
but only the top column is wanted at once — the 
whole amount of that is wanted at once, — at any 
cost whatever 1” Her voice was so deep and terrible, 
so matured, if that could be said, that both men 
started and looked sideways at her as if expecting 
to see some one else who had erupted from the earth 
at their side. 

“Paltry, isn’t it.” Evans called in gay irony to 
Zacho, waving his hand toward the column. “And 
the other amounts — will they too be paid in notes 
bearing interest?” he asked with less warmth of 
tone, looking up from the paper. 

“Oh, advise me,” she cried, stepping to Zacho’s 
side, “You know about these men — like the one 
you met at the office. Pay them to the last farthing. 
They will be glad to accept any arrangement so they 
get their money back. I know many of them are 
poor men, who had gathered their scanty sums 
together by hard work and economy. I have the 
list here.” 

“Let us attend to the whole business, Miss Gouled. 
This is no work for women. That is what hurts 
me — you have no call to mix with these men. Let 
us!” Zacho had risen and now stood before her, 
his attitude pleading, his face aglow with fine feel- 
ing. “These gigantic responsibilities are not for 


THE TWO HOUSES 225 

women. You are contending with outrageous con- 
ditions. Turn the whole business over to us.” 

“Yes, leave it all to us, Miss Gouled,” Evans had 
returned to his pleasant manner. He had been 
studying the figures and evidently had marshalled a 
cardinal idea or two to guide him in the affair in 
which they were all so deeply interested. “Tin-Tin 
mine’s good for even that with what it has paid in 
the developement of ore in the last few months.” 

It was the revealing to the men the greater 
fraud — the Allingham fortune, the tender solicitude 
of the girl for her father’s name that was with the 
obligation to tell the men the truth, to turn the 
whole matter over to them for settlement. For 
she was entirely ignorant of business in any form 
and would have been glad to have been relieved 
from all legal transactions. She hated the idea of 
her father’s life being put on a microscopic slide, 
and she flushed painfully as she protested in a 
trembling voice, 

“While as a woman I value your assistance, as 
my father’s representative there are private reasons 
why I should attend to the — the larger affair my- 
self, — as best I can.” 

“Then nothing more need be said on the subject. 
We will go at once to Coeur d’ Alene and complete 
arrangements with the bank, and return to Seattle 
as soon as possible.” Zacho looked from the girl 
to his partner, who nodded for him to proceed. 
“Now that the business matter is disposed of — that 
is as far as we can go at present. Miss Gouled, there 
is another affair — your father. My partner and I 
have discussed this and we are determined to leave 
no stone unturned to find him.” 


226 


THE TWO HOUSES 


“No brother, no one to turn to — ’t won’t do. 
What’s a man good for if not to help out? You 
maybe didn’t know that I was acquainted with your 
father, Miss Gouled. I was foreman when this 
same mine we’ve got now was first opened. We’re 
going to find him. We’ll never let up until we know 
what has become of my old boss.” Evans arose and 
joined his partner, standing in a protecting attitude 
near the girl. 

“You knew my father? You will find him? 
Oh, if that could only be !” Thesmi had risen and 
grasped the miner’s hand. 

All three stood before the western window and 
Thesmi directed their gaze to the great peaks, lone 
and defiant, which that day had a certain sculptural 
effect. “He is there,” she cried, “but whether dead 
or ” a gush of tears choked her utterance. 

Thesmi’s stress was oftener than not reflected in 
her silences. 

“He may not be there. We do not know. Cheer 
up. We’ll find him, never fear.” The full-gestured 
speech of Evans was tinged with hope, but the 
great feature of it zms its convincingness. 

Thesmi’s face brightened and she looked grate- 
fully from the one man to the other. “How can I 
thank you,” she murmured to Zacho, “for bringing 
your partner to see me. What hope you have both 
brought to me today? I shall always love him for 
this meeting.” 

“Him — him only love — him — only ?” 

Thesmi bit her lip to keep the smile that broke, 
April-like, over her face at the mock pout Zacho’s 
lips wore. Then her youthful dignity — one of her 


THE TWO HOUSES 


227 


charms, returned and she courteously held out her 
hand thinking that the meeting was at an end. 

But it was not. Zacho was taking his cue — 
energetic nods — from his partnei, and, smiling in 
Thesmi’s face, began, “He wants to know whether 
you have any women friends. He thinks you are 
lonely. I could not tell him. He’s a married man. 
Their home is near the mine. He wonders whether 
you would like to have his wife come and see you. 
She ” 

“She’s My Angel-Mary-Gold, Miss Gouled,” 
broke in the impatient Evans, “and if she was here 
to coddle you up a bit you’d soon lose that worried 
look. Zacho can tell you. She’s — she’s — she’s — 
just Angel-Mary-Gold, that’s all — except that her 
kettle’s always simmering on the stove; there’s al- 
ways a plate of goodies on the table. And she al- 
ways looks as if she was thinking of pleasant things 
and never as if she had a worry in the world to 
attend to.” 

Thesmi turned to Zacho, who nodded affirma- 
tively. “And you live with them? How delight- 
ful! How I should love to meet her! Some day 
I may, too. But I have two very true friends — all 
I have — unless you let me consider Angel-Mary- 
Gold my friend now, too. But they have not been 
able to be with me much of late. They are taking 
care of a man who has lost his mind — or something. 
He washes out gold all the time. He’ll say ‘a dol- 
lar out of this pan, a dollar and a half, two dollars,’ 
and so on all the time. Oh, well, you are miners 
and you will know what it means. Signa and 
Ishna ” 

“Signa and Ishna ! There can be but one Signa, 


228 


THE TWO HOUSES 


one Ishna. Where are they? I have been search- 
ing Seattle for them ever since my good fortune 
came.” Zacho’s face was aglow. He was all ex- 
citement. 

“Oh, yes, you were acquainted with them in the 
beachcomber’s vil ,” Thesmi stopped embar- 

rassed as a flood of recollections assailed her. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


229 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

The Restoration Oe Gouled. 

“Life is for the elaboration of the soul.” 

Evans and Zacho lost no time in returning to 
Seattle, ready to turn over an indorsed check for 
the large amount and to settle all the claims of the 
smaller investors who had advanced money to 
Gouled. 

On the way back Zacho looked as if all life was 
within his reach. But Evans was more thoughtful. 
He did not put himself readily under obligations 
to people. His men often said that “his word was 
good, but hard to get.” He had betrayed no un- 
readiness when put to the financial test, yet some- 
thing lingered in his mind. 

“There’s some mystery here, Zacho,” he re- 
marked, with a smile that did not take all the sus- 
picion out of the words. “I hope she’s not going to 
be like her father. He was a plunger if ever there 
was one. Of course I’ve no doubt whatever of the 
girl. It’ll come out all right; there’s not a question 
about that.” Evan’s tone was that of one whose 
opinion w'as unanswerable. 

Zacho did not make immediate reply. His part- 
ner had more than once alluded to the mystery of 
the larger amount, which evidently was now in de- 
bate in his mind, and the fact that there was a de- 
bate about it was for Zacho a kind of answer. Be- 
ing the challenged party, he had the choice of 


230 


THE TWO HOUSES 


weapons, which was silence, and which was not 
once broken until they were about to ascend the 
steps of Thesmi’s home, when he turned to his com- 
panion and announced firmly, 

“All we have to do is to settle with these men 
and see that the girl is provided for. She must 
not, shall not, be harrassed by them. That may 
have been another we met coming from there the 
last time we were at the home.” 

Evans gave a quick gesture of assent and shot 
•a glance of pride and also apology at Zacho for his 
chivalrous defense of the girl. 

Thesmi waited their coming with feverish impa- 
tience. Doubts would assail her as to whether they 
could get such a large amount from the bank. She 
could not bring herself to face what such a calam- 
ity would mean to her. No definite project pre- 
sented itself to her in case of such an event. But 
her mind was made up that all relationship with the 
Englishman was at an end. ' Her soul burned 
within her, too, whenever she thought of how loyal 
Zacho had been in this aifair of the money. It was 
only a wish to avoid added notoriety attaching to 
the afifairs of her father that had prevented her 
from telling the men all — and sometimes she was 
tempted to throw the whole thing at their feet and 
fall back into the old careless ways when money 
was an unknown factor in her life. 

The men had no sooner been seated than Thesmi 
reverted to the thing uppermost in her thoughts — 
not being able to give a paper equivalent for the 
large amount. 

“We never let a little thing like that interfere 
with our plans, Miss Gouled.” Evans was spokes- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


231 


man. He had lost all thought of suspicion as soon 
as he came under her influence, and was now bend- 
ing looks of admiration on his partner’s “first- 
sight atfair.” 

“A little thing! Do you call that a little thing? 
The very first assistance I received in this dreadful 
trouble that has befallen our house came from him,” 
Thesmi pointed to Zacho, a look of love lighting up 
his eyes that met her own, filled with the same 
light. “Oh, the day of the funeral! I had no 
money to pay the ” 

“Never mind that! Th Miss Gouled. Don’t 

speak of it.” Zacho looked distressed, but Thesmi 
did not heed, and turned to Evans. 

“And now you too come upon the scene, come 
into my life so beautifully. It will take an age to 
forget such kindness, such goodness.” Thesmi had 
a convention-defying way, a captivating way, of 
familiarity with those whom she took into her con- 
fidence, whether of dukedom or ditchdom, that was 
never mistaken by those she addressed. 

Evans had found out before now that it was hard 
for Zacho to fix his mind on purely business mat- 
ters when in Thesmi’s company — or any other 
thing, for the matter of that, — since it was neces- 
sary for a series of dumb-show acts to fall upon 
him before he tumbled to the pantomimic orders. 

“Your father. Miss Gouled, — we want you to 
tell what you can — or will — that will help us in our 
search for him. This has been the main reason for 
pushing these matters. We want to begin the search 
at once. And my friend Evans never takes up a 
thing to see if it can he done. He takes up the task 


232 THE TWO HOUSES 

“Yes,” broke in the miner, “we’re going to start 
on the breast of a ten-mile current to find him. If 
we fail to connect it won’t be our fault.” 

When Thesmi had finished her story, Zacho rose, 
saying, 

“We will start for the mountains at once. There 
is no time to be lost. Tell me w'here Signa and 
Ishna are to be found — The Women!” 

“And the man that’s dippy, that Mrs. Sig — Sig — 
is caring for. I want to see him. If he’s a broke 

fellow I’ll have to ” The old miner’s interest 

and generosity were aroused at the same time. 

As the men left the house Evans turned to Zacho, 

“I don’t believe that Gouled ever went into the 
mountains. He never ran away. He wouldn’t 
leave his girl in that fix,” and he enumerated on his 
fingers some of the reasons for his belief. “He’s 
either sick or dead, but he didn’t run away.” 

“Have you ever seen Gouled, Zacho? Would 
you know him?” 

Zacho gave an odd little laugh as he answ'ered in 
a quiet tone, “Yes, I saw him for a second, but not 
clearly. I shouldn’t know him. But I heard his 
voice; that was how I knew her name. He called 
her by name — Thesmi!” Zacho’s eyes glowed as 
the memory of that first meeting returned to him. 
So rapt did he look that he might have been dwell- 
ing on the Psalmist’s words, “He telleth the num- 
ber of the stars ; He calleth them all by name.” 

Crossing Elliott Bay, the men had little trouble 
in locating the Indian camp, where they hoped to 
find a guide to pilot them into the mountains. The 
Indian who could speak English soon conducted 
them to where the “pilton” man wias cared for. 


THE TWO HOUSES 233 

This was in an old derelict — a wreck beached at 
some time for repairs, but so badly damaged that it 
was finally abandoned. The Women had taken 
possession of the old ship and converted it into a 
home — a House. This shelter of the sea was in- 
geniously fitted with a door leading to the beach. 
The door stood open, and seeing no one around, 
Zacho and Evans quietly entered. Ishna was care- 
fully stirring some ingredients over the fire — a 
diminutive stove — the odor of which, resin among 
others, filled the air. It was evidently salve for 
healing purposes. Ishna almost overturned her 
earthenware bowl of seething stuff in her surprise 
and pleasure at seeing Zacho, and hastened to bring 
him to Signa, employed in another part of the home. 

Unmindful of Evans w^ho was looking up and 
down the beach, both women clung to Zacho, 
smoothing his coat sleeves, patting his hands and 
asking questions. 

'T have looked everywhere for you,” Zacho told 
them. ‘T had despaired of ever seeing you again, 
when Miss Gouled happened to mention your 
name.” 

“Thesmi Gouled?” both women exclaimed. 

.*‘Yes,” answered Zacho, coloring like a girl. “My 
partner and I had business at the home, and it was 
there we learned of this place.” Zacho explained 
that he had business relations with Miss Gouled 
and mentioned his great good fortune, “Which,” he 
added earnestly, “you of all people shall certainly 
share. You dear Women!” 

“Where’s the dippy fellow with the old pan?” 
Evans interrupted. “I know all about you. You 
must be like my Angel-Mary-Gold to show such 


234 


THE TWO HOUSES 


kindness to strangers,” and he shook hands over 
and over, first with one and then the other. 

“But we must ask again, how did you know about 
himf We are secluded here ” 

Evans answered in his blunt way, “Em a min- 
ing man, Mrs. Sig — , and when Miss Gouled inad- 
vertently told of this man being here and my 
partner wlanted to see you, I immediately made up 
my mind that I wanted to see him. Where is he?” 

“He’s just a little distance off toward the woods; 
he’ll be here presently. You’ll be able to watch him 
unobserved from the door. But please use cau- 
tion. Don’t startle him. He shows signs of im- 
provement lately and we are in hopes that he will 
recover.” 

Signa had hardly finished speaking when the 
man, followed by Ernst, came from a little footpath 
at the edge of the woods and approached the beach, 
pan in hand. 

From the door of the hull the little group 
watched, Evans craning his neck over the shoulders 
of the others, and looking not unlike an exaggerated 
figure-head of a ship himself as the approaching 
man’s mumbling went on, 

“A dollar, a dollar and a half, two dollars.” 
The words were accompanied by a gesture — the 
manipulating of an imaginary sluice-box. 

Like a rhythm kept up a long time without 
change, the tiresome process went on. 

“How can he stand it?” Evans muttered. “But 
we get used to everything. The man’s crazy, sure. 
‘You’ll never turn the mill with the waters that are 
past,’ ” he quoted. 

The man continued at his eternal task, his back 


THE TWO HOUSES 


235 


toward the door. But soon, as if drawn uncon- 
sciously by their gaze, he stood up, turned and 
squarely faced the group. 

Evans gazed fixedly for an instant at the big 
man of wrinkled brow and sunken cheeks, then he 
gave a low cry, “Why that's my boss! That’s the 
man we’re looking for!” He would have ran for- 
ward, but Signa restrained him. 

“And this is the man you’ve been caring for all 
this time — Thesmi’s — Miss Gouled’s father !” 
Zacho was looking uncomprehendingly from the 
one to the other of the group. 

“Mark Gouled — Thesmi’s father? He wasn’t a 
mining man. What do you mean, Zacho?” The 
Women had drawn Zacho inside the shelter and 
were clinging to him, looking up into his face 
amazedly. 

“He isn’t a mining man — at least was not sup- 
posed to be — but my partner knew him well ; that’s 
how we came to lease the mine from him — an aban- 
doned one. It’s impossible that Evans can be 
mistaken.” 

“I’m going to speak to him,” Evans declared — 
to no one in particular. He went quietly forward, 
saying very composedly, “Struck it rich, eh, pard? 
Don’t you remember Evans — Evans? I’m operat- 
ing a lease on your mine now,” and he stood in 
full view. 

There was an almost imperceptible start at first, 
and then with unbroken gaze the toil went on. 

Evans turned and went back dejectedly. “I’ve 
always heard that some kind of a shock is necessary 
to bring such people back,” he said, “and he’s got 
to have one. He’s lost his identity, sure enough. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


236 

What a change ! So helpless, so childish, such a 
contrast to what Fve always known him !’’ 

“We can’t take him home in this state. Never !” 
It was Zacho who spoke and he was pacing ex- 
citedly up and down in front of the unintentional 
door. “After all the girl has gone through, to find 
him like this ! It is almost worse than death. What' 
can be done?” 

“I know a man’s cure for this sort of thing must 
come from within — where the disease came from — 
but sometimes a jolt from without starts the ma- 
chinery going.” Evans had drawn Zacho aside and 
was emphasizing every word with jerks of his 
thumb in the direction of the beach. “I have a plan. 
If I had him over at the mine for a day he’d soon 
quit his crazy placer-mining. We’ll beat him at his 
own game. There was a little incident that fur- 
nished a day’s sensation when we first opened the 
mine ; we’ll have that repeated for; his benefit. 
Gouled was there when we put in the blast that 
bared the vein showing the rich ore. — He went 
nearly crazy. And no doubt that first great strike 
eventually led up to his mining gambling later. 
We’ll do the trick over again. We’ll give him the 
hair of the dog that bit him. If that doesn’t bring 
him to his senses nothing will. We’ve just struck 
six feet of ore ; we’ll take him there. Gold took 
away his reason and gold may restore it. How 
well I remember, though, how downcast the big 
fellow was when the thing petered out ! He almost 
went dippy then ; and to think that he’s been at the 
same old gambling game ever since !” 

“How do you suppose we can get him there?” 
Zacho had listened greedily, ready to accept any- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


237 


thing feasible. “We’ll get Signa to go with us. 
He’ll go quietly with her. It will never do to use 
force. She’ll go with us, Evans, I’m sure.’ 

“That’s the very plan,” approved Evans. “And 
remember,” he cautioned a second later, “that I’m 
in dead earnest about this ; it’s no child’s play. And 
Mrs. Sig — ” he volunteered another second later 
still, “we’re well off — a great help in present time 
of trouble — and if you help us out we’ll — won’t 
we, Zacho?” 

“He doesn’t know you as well as I do, Signa. 
Wait until we all get acquainted ; wait until we all 
understand one another. The money won’t hurt 
you. You’ll show the world what money ought to 
mean.” Zacho simply had to offer this little sop to 
Signa, her look was so distressed at the thought of 
being offered money for her services. And in truth 
he was laughing inwardly, well knowing his part- 
ner’s penchant for a little brag — money-brag. 

With all care Gouled was railroaded to Coeur 
d’Alene and installed in the cottage, where Angel- 
Mary-Gold at once took him and Signa under her 
wing, while Evans and Zacho made immediate 
preparations for the experiment. Both men’s faces 
told of the tense strain under which they worked. 
Zacho was rather pale and his quick movements 
betrayed his nervousness, but with it all he was 
thoughtful and extremely watchful of every detail. 
Evans, on the contrary, with his kindly, bluff coun- 
tenance, and his color verging on magenta, was blus- 
tering a little and constantly bringing forward valid 
reasons for the experiment. 

“It will be easier to appeal to Gouled in this way 
than any other,” he said among other things. “He 


238 


THE TWO HOUSES 


has had experience in mining; it really was his pet 
business. I am absolutely sure that it is the only 
thing to do with him.” 

Signa led Gouled, docile as a child, from the cot- 
tage to the mine, where they were placed out of all 
danger. Almost immediately the blast went off, 
filling the cave with an enormous body of sound. 

When the smoke cleared away, Evans and Zacho 
hurried Gouled to where the blast had gone off, and 
Evans picking up a lump of the ore, thrust it and 
the glass into Gouled’s hands, saying in a cool- mat- 
ter-of-fact tone, 

“Pass your judgment, boss; you used to be an 
expert.” 

Gouled had apparently been thrown out of his 
apathy by the suddenness and noise of the blast. 
He trembled, but took the ore and glass without a 
word, examined the rich rock sanely enough, and 
cried out eagerly, 

“We’ve struck it, Evans ! We’ve struck it ! It’s 
gold ! It’s gold ! The vein ! The vein !” There 
were symptoms of a few enthusiasms — but they 
soon faded, and with a shuddering of the big frame, 
a recoiling movement, Gouled disgustedly pushed 
the glass and ore into the hands of Evans, exclaim- 
ing pathetically, “Where am I? What does this 
mean? I want Thesmi. Take me home. Take me 
home. Take the gold away — take it away” 

Some vague shift in the background of his con- 
sciousness took the sordidness out of his spirit and 
the dominance out of his voice. 

It was not the modern mine with a vanquished 
modern miner that was gazed upon by Signa, Evans 
and Zacho. The seepy walls, the sloshy ground, be- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


239 


came the palace of the old king; the little group 
watching Gouled were metamorphosed into the gods 
decreeing that he should have his wish — everything 
must turn to gold at his touch. It was Midas him- 
self snatched from the dim past that confronted the 
silent audience — Midas’s wail to the gods to re- 
move the evil rent the hearts of the three and 
awakened strange throbbings. The moral of the 
scene was not lost upon them. 

“He isn’t drunk with the joy of seeing the gold 
as he used to be. What has come over the man?” 
Evans nudged Zacho, speaking in an undertone. 

“He’s come back to his senses, anyway, and that 
is all I’ve been praying for.” Zacho’s tone was 
devout in its earnestness. 

“And he won’t need me any more,” Signa em- 
phasized with a sigh. 

“Yes, he’s himself again; and the plot was beauti- 
ful to watch at all points. Things came our way 
like a three-time winner.” Evans was beside him- 
self. He had legislated for this. It was his genius 
for plots that won the day at the mine, when the big 
financier was restored to reason, when he re- 
emerged converted, redeemed. 

On the way back to the cottage, Gouled looked 
with indifference upon the busy scene, swarming 
with miners. A man had been put to work wher- 
ever a man could be employed, and no expense had 
been spared to obtain results. Day and night shifts 
of miners were employed and every mining equip- 
ment needed had been furnished for the property. 
Below the cottage, blacksmith shops, bunk-houses 
and storehouses had been erected. 

Evans was never less than entertaining, and his 


240 


THE TWO HOUSES 


trenchant remarks and estimates of men were fre- 
quently more than that. It was noticeable that if 
the conversation drifted ever so slightly to money 
matters or business, Gouled maintained a curious 
silence and his manner became cold and distant, his 
hands going out in a gesture of dismissal. But he 
seemed to enjoy any little story of life immensely, 
and once when Evans, in telling a humorous story 
of the camp, let out such a volley of good, hot pro- 
fanity as Gouled had not heard in an age, he 
laughed jovially, and every time the recollection 
came up he broke out afresh. The homeliness of 
the cottage and the atmosphere of the inmates 
loosened his tongue and his memory. He had 
passed naturally from stage to stage, finding pleas- 
ure in all around him. 

The guests would have to stay overnight while 
waiting for trains, but the cottage could stretch 
away, if not to lordly halls, at least to cozy, clean 
beds, and Angel-Mary-Gold took over a hundred 
loving precautions to insure their comfort. 

“My Angel-Mary-Gold !” Evans waved to Gouled 
with a gesture of pride and possession, for the 
dozenth time drawing attention to his wife, who 
looked like a full-paged picture in the animated 
room. 

“A lovely lady! My Thesmi must make her ac- 
quaintance,” responded Gouled with the light- 
heartedness of a boy. 

After dinner five very comfortable and pleased 
persons sat around and had a time of straightfor- 
ward entertainment. Each one was looking as if he 
or she might be somebody. Sometimes the way they 
altered the world seemed to be a great relief — they 


THE TWO HOUSES 


241 


were making it look new and strange, as children 
who take delight in looking through a piece of col- 
ored glass, and it seemed as if each one got a new 
fillip to his imagination every now and then. It 
might have been an Arabian Night’s entertainment. 
Their laughter echoed through the cottage. And 
there was not a touch of languid condescension in 
Gouled’s manner. 

“Play for us, Zacho. Play as you did for us in the 
village.” It was Signa who pleaded. 

“Yes, play the old cradle tune, Zacho. The love 
of music is in his very soul, Mrs. Sig — .” Evans 
never could get the end of her name. 

Zacho took up his violin and softly touched the 
strings and played with grace and fire; then he 
struck into dance-music, a sprightly two-step. 

Only in melodrama, possibly, could there have 
been such an eleventh-hour hilarity for Gouled, for 
bad not the Women protected him as they did there 
is no telling how long he would hav6 been the same 
as dead. But he was alive at last to the life that 
swung before him. 


242 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

Sophy Predicts, As Usual. 

And, behold, I purpose to build an House unto 
the name of the Lord my God. — Chronicles, 
Chapter II. 

No longer now was there a multiplicity of cares 
for Thesmi. And now that the bread and butter 
problem was solved, the exacting economics of the 
household a thing of the past, and help engaged, 
the House, which had suffered in the interim, was 
being set back to its old footing of elegance and 
comfort. Neighbor Sophy had been engaged to 
help out in the work and she always got her innings 
at such times. 

And no longer now did Aunt Meg vamp through 
the house so aggressively. She was careful to in- 
troduce herself properly and behave like a lady. 
Occasionally there was a short outbreak, but the 
scolding would soon die away in the distance — like 
the vanishing tenuous tail of a comet receding in 
space. It could have been that Aunt Meg was 
really so perfect, even ornate, in her department of 
life that she was just on the verge of merging into 
that which would make something higher possible. 
And the gods know when to work. 

^‘We have a regular picnic, haven’t we. Miss 
Thesmi, when we get together shining up things?” 
Sophy’s remarks and retailings always made for 
ease and friendliness — the basis of all good man- 


THE TWO HOUSES 243 

ners. And it is doubtful if Thesmi could have en- 
dured the same intimacy with anyone else. 

“You have a nice sense of arrangement, Miss 
Thesmi. Where’ll this new-comer look best?” 
Sophy’s usual placid countenance was a shell-pink 
with the exertion of trying to place a large arm 
chair in proper focus. 

Thesmi stepped across the room, the beautiful 
energy of youth in every line of her body, and, 
together, they tried the fastidious piece of furni- 
ture in various positions, standing back at each new 
move to study the eflfect. 

“There! that’s just right!” Sophy struck an at- 
titude with arms akimbo, a satisfied look on her 
face after the victory. 

“Yes,” assented Thesmi. “Isn’t it a beauty, 
Sophy ? What an air it gives the room ! The 
House is beginning to look like itself again.” 

“Somehow, Miss Thesmi, the House seems the 
same and yet not the same. T will build me a 
House to the Lord,’ ” she quoted in a lowered key. 

Thesmi had ascended a stepladder to place an 
antique vase upon a high shelf above an old- 
fashioned mantlepiece. She arched her brows and 
looked down at the suddenly modified tone of her 
neighbor, who still in the same key asked, 

“Did you ever see a Wonder Jug, Miss Thesmi? 
No? Well, I never saw but one myself. An old 
man made it. If you had mentioned it to him he 
would not have known what it meant ; but my people 
knew and called it the Wonder Jug. He was old 
and poor and sorrowful, but he used to go out and 
gather the autumn weeds for the beauty, for the 
color, and make bouquets, and then he lived in the 


244 


THE TWO HOUSES 


midst of squalor and discordance. But he began 
to build, Babel-like, — ” Sophy here threw up her 
hands dramatically to the ceiling and continued, 
“any thing, a piece of broken china picked up, a 
part of an old watch, any scrap that had a mite of 
fine color or glitter was laid on with putty. And 
the thing grew, and all who came to see it won- 
dered.” Sophy was moving hither and thither, her 
deft hands grouping and dusting small articles, as 
if she, too, were fain to begin building. 

“But I don’t know what the things I saw the 
other night were laid oni with — tears, laughter, 
wrangling, and love, maybe — and the love I’m sure 
of, any way. It was a Pyramid with me, though 
when I woke up I could think of nothing but that 
old man’s Jug. Well, it was a miscellany of things, 
I can tell you. Broad at the base it was and tapered 
at the top. — And Callie says that that’s life — that 
it meant life.” Sophy’s unconscious oratory and 
stage-like performance struck Thesmi, accustomed 
as she was to eccentricities, and she gave more heed 
than usual as Sophy continued, 

“We begin fitting in everything we can lay our 
hands on at first, narrowing gradually all the way 
up. But it all haunts me. There was a woman’s 
face, young; and a baby’s shoe, mouldy; a man’s 
arm, and not far away a sword; and some butter- 
cups, Miss Thesmi; and even the dandelion chains 
that we make when we’re children. And I saw 
a broken toy and a woman’s slipper ; and there were, 
besides, shadowy things innumerable that we have 
to spell out. Up and up and round and round was 
it built ; and no two things connected anywhere, all 
detached, a memorial pile of discarded life.” There 


THE TWO HOUSES 


245 


may have been some ulterior meaning in the allur- 
ing story of the Pyramid, but it was not of the kind 
to yield readily to analysis, and Thesmi said nothing. 

Neighbor Sophy, like Cupid with an arrow con- 
stantly on the string, always had a story on her 
tongue. And like that arrow too it could sometimes 
carry as high as heaven, — shoot even to Acheron, 
and to the king of Hades. Every story or dream 
was referred to her son for interpretation. They 
had an intuitive understanding between them, and 
created a little eddy into which, as it were, swirled 
from time to time some of the flotsam and jetsam 
of the spiritual stream. 

Perhaps the difference between Sophy and a sci- 
entist could be said to be that sh^ allowed herself 
to develop these things, and did not, like the other, 
aim at the development of the means employed. 

Neighbor Sophy knew that Thesmi was never un- 
appreciative or ignorant — although her applause of 
the notional stuff might not be furious. The atten- 
tion of her audience could always be predicted with 
assurance. She openly said she thought Thesmi 
was mediumistic, “a hope-to-die clairvoyant, if she 
would let herself be one.” 

Thesmi had a poignant realization of what it 
meant to be delivered from the hands of creditors 
as she had been. A bill of exchange on London, 
registered, had been sent to England the very day 
after she had received the check. And by the same 
mail the Allingham agent at Vancouver had been 
notified shortly that all business had been closed 
between her father and his former 'clients. It 
needed only the anxiety about her father to be re- 


246 THE TWO HOUSES 

moved, and something like the old days would be 
resumed. 

Thesmi was really glad to work, for the suspense 
since Evans and Zacho had left in search of her 
father was becoming almost unendurable. And 
now, darning away at a fine lace window-drape, she 
listened off and on to the low, soft voice of Neigh- 
bor Sophy as she moved about setting things in 
order. She was predicting as usual. 

“You’re coming out of your troubles. Miss Thes- 
mi. You’ll soon be out of them altogether. A 
door does open to those who work — and you have 
worked — kitchen work, brain work, office work, — 
and love work, and the last’s the best. But we all 
have to weave our own wings; and they’re always 
woven in secret and in the dark ; and they take on 
the color, the fineness, too, of the things they’re 
woven from. Just as the butterfly’s is produced 
from the mottled, hairy caterpillar.” 

“Oh, Neighbor Sophy,” laughed Thesmi, “please 
don’t fit me out with wings yet ! But I do feel today 
almost as light as if I wore them; as if something 
good was coming my way. And yet how dare I feel 
happy when I know not what fate has overtaken my 
father? If we could only be all together again, how 
happy we should be ! No, never all together again, 
never that on earth. Dear Althoth ! But I intend 
to con over his books, his marked passages, and 
what they meant to him may descend upon me, — 
his mantle may fall on me — ^even me.” 

“I like people that have something. Miss Thesmi. 
Now, Althoth had something; Callimachus has 
something; and your aunt — ” Sophy’s upraised 
eyes told the rest of the story. “When there’s 


THE TWO HOUSES 


247 


something particular, emphasized, about anyone 
we take notice of that when perhaps we wouldn’t 
take notice at all.” Sophy continued her reflec- 
tions, now from one end of the room and now 
from the other. “But I don’t just know what 
you've got. Miss Thesmi; but you’ve got some- 
thing, or I couldn’t think as much of you as I do. 
And Callimachus — he worships you. You’re just 
Thesmi, and you couldn’t be anyone else — and 
this not once in a while, but always.” This really 
was an ingenuous confession that Thesmi con- 
formed very well to her idea of what a woman 
should be. 

Thesmi was still at her task after Sophy had 
left off work for the day, when her aunt, with a 
look of importance on her face, entered the room 
and laid a bundle of papers in her lap, saying: 

“Your father put these papers into my hands a 
few days before he went away, telling me to take 
good care of them, and in all this trouble we’ve 
had they were forgotten. Not until this minute, 
when they fell into my hands in tidying up a 
drawer, have I thought of them. Open them quick, 
Thesmi. There may be some clue, something to 
tell of his whereabouts.” 

After 'a swift, surprised glance at her aunt, 
Thesmi opened the packet. The very first thing 
she drew out was a letter addressed to herself in 
her father’s hand. With nervous fingers she 
opened it and began to read, aloud at first, but 
soon with lips firmly set and a whitening of the 
face. The letter was written shortly before her 
father went away. Every few lines there would be 
a reiteration of the deep love the writer had for 


248 


THE TWO HOUSES 


his daughter and for his home — his perhaps no 
longer. He confessed his great remissness, and 
unsparingly told of his gambling passion that held 
him like a vise — and when he told that one fact 
he told all. — All interest had been lost in anything 
but the staking of money — sure that he would win, 
and perhaps win again. Deterred by no sense of 
sparing himself, he told of using money held in 
trust, after everything of his own was gone. The 
horror of the approaching disaster to his home 
was more than he could face, and he realized his 
impotence in trying to redeem himself, the utter 
hopelessness of it all. There were deeds for differ- 
ent mines among the papers, some of which were 
deeded to his sister, and some to Thesmi, his only 
living ties, Tin-Tin mine being one of the latter. 
The importance of this discovery — that by a stroke 
of the pen she, instead of her father, was owner of 
the paying mine, was nearlv lost sight of at the 
time. And in the light of what was to follow, it 
seemed a strange oversight. But the rush of emo- 
tions engendered by the letter clouded everything. 

Thesmi had risen and stood close to the window, 
her face averted from her aunt, who, becoming 
impatient, asked with a little irritation in her voice, 

“Does it tell anything, Thesmi? Does it — ?” 

Thesmi’s loyalty to her father warred for a 
time with the obligation to tell the truth, but at 
last she cried back, 

“Yes! Yes! Yes! It tells — it tells — that he 
never went to the mountains at all — he’s — he’s an 
absconder ! No wonder that we couldn’t find him ! 
And those men are risking their lives now, trying 
to reach him. Oh, that I could communicate with 


THE TWO HOUSES 


249 


them ! I would tell all — all and care nothing !” 

It was a very wilted Thesmi who stood there in 
the autumn sunshine of the window. With the 
exception of a deep white linen collar, daintly 
laundered, she was entirely in black, the soft 
straight lines of her skirt falling barely to her shoe- 
tops, giving her a more girlish appearance. 

An exclamation — a cry from her aunt — caused 
her to look up, and in the doorway, a chastened 
look on his worn face, stood her father — and 
Zacho, a little behind, but Dressing close in a pro- 
tecting way. Thesmi stood an instant on the balls 
of her feet, a tense figure, and there was a slight 
backing movement at first and a brushing of the 
eyes — a hasty straggling uo of the faculties evi- 
dently — as if to affirm* that there was nothing here 
strange — rather a return to something merely left 
off ; as if her father had never been away — as if 
he had entered the room as casually as he had last 
left it. And as sometimes in music there is a 
whole measure of silence before the big chord, so 
here. 

“I — I — Thesmi !” the voice was full of emotion, 
and the big man staggered and would have fallen 
had not Zacho^s arm steadied him. 

Thesmi’s outburst was almost tempestuous as 
she wept on the shoulder of her restored father. 

Zacho’s soul was gripped as in a vise by the 
intense feeling of the girl. Yet perhaps the hand- 
some flush on his face was not due entirely to 
sympathy for Thesmi’s feelings; it could have 
been due to the fact that in guiding Mr. Gouled to 
a chair she still clung to her father and Zacho had 


250 


THE TWO HOUSES 


no other choice than to be very close — her face 
was thrilling near his own for an instant. 

“Home! Home!” ejaculated the father. And 
even there and then the words took the age-look 
from his face. The warmth that filled the big 
man’s soul and body was of a holy kind ; and in the 
new light he saw where his treasures lay. He was 
tracing his way back to the lost days ; he was enter- 
ing a new and serious phase of life. That which 
had made desolate, no longer existed. God was 
in the universe, the soul was in the man. 

Certainly if Gouled had been guilty of disturb- 
ing the equilibrium of the “Great Current,” the 
adjustment of that equilibrium had been made at 
his expense — the righteous ruling of the gods, we 
are told. And certainly he was a good illustration 
of how easy it is to hoodwink and dupe, so long as 
a high-pressure policy tensioned him. 

If there was any surprise in Thesmi’s mind 
when Zacho, who looked a little embarrassed, as if 
guilty of intrusion, remained during the family 
reunion, it was quickly dispelled when her father 
left the room for a little grooming, under aunt 
Meg’s care. 

“I waited on purpose to see you alone,” he has- 
tened to say. In as few words as possible, and 
veiling disagreeable things as much as possible, he 
told of the finding, the cure and the home-bringing. 
Zacho could not give too much credit to his partner 
in the affair, taking little or none to himself. 
Hands, facial play, voice, combined eloquently to 
set forth the unbounded confidence and admiration 
he had for the old miner. “The whole thing was 
so well devised that it seemed no plot at all. Every- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


251 


thing was handled with the best of judgment. 
Evans thought, though, — to use his own expres- 
sion, — ‘as if he was all in,' when we first found 
your father; but how he did pick up at the cot- 
tage !” 

Thesmi sat spellbound. One thought apparently 
had been uppermost in her mind. “Then my 
father did not — was not an absconder?” she cried, 
a high note of relief in her voice. “He simply was 
ill and didn’t know what he was doing.” The girl’s 
faith in her father was beautiful, and Zacho acqui- 
esced encouragingly and endeavoured to change 
the conversation, but she looked straight into his 
eyes, saying almost bitterly, “I trust you don’t 
think that money is all I have to do with ; the ques- 
tion was thrust upon me. If I had my way — !” 
and her eyes shone with a firm determination. 

“Money? You — money!” cried Zacho returning 
abstractedly to the topic and looking the picture of 
incredulity, “But I must tell you, Th — Miss 
Gouled, that your father hates the very mention 
of money now. He won’t discuss business, even, 
and we all thought it best not to press him, not to 
urge him. But Signa will tell you — she will make 
it clear to you. She — she hates to give him up. 
The dear Women! He filled a want in their lives, 
helpless as he was.” 

“Oh, what do you know about them, Zacho — Mr. 
Lauritz? There is some mystery, isn’t there?” 

Zacho shook his head sadly. “No one knows 
very much ; and as for a mystery, it is only the old 
mystery of sorrow, pain, love and devotion, I think, 
for they have never told. But that the living the 
way they do, has a relation to their past. I’m sure. 


252 


THE TWO HOUSES 


They have a small annuity — a very small one; I 
gathered that from Ernst. He’s a countryman of 
mine and comes from my home town.” Zacho’s face 
clouded for an instant. “But it is of the Women 
I was speaking,” he hastened to continue. “It is 
soon told; this is what I have gathered: a loved 
one — a worshipped one, brother or son, I know not, 
whether from frailty of character or accident is 
not clear, met with a violent — terrible death, sleeps 
in an unknown grave, buried no one knows how, 
only in the utmost squalor, it is suspected. The 
supposition is that through waywardness and want 
of a helping hand the soul so dear to them was 
lost — lost as so many of God’s men — precious 
souls, are lost. What was to have hindered me at 
one time — ?” Zacho straightened in his chair and 
averted his face. 

“That is the reason, then, why they always made 
haste to men’s deathbeds, especially violent ends. 
Oh, I know now and can understand much that 
puzzled me.” Thesmi’s eyes had a retrospective 
look. “And you know they made shrouds — pure 
ones, they said — for the dead. But they were 
always doing what no one else would do — volun- 
tarily attending to odds and ends of life left over 
by others. And such life as they willingly cast 
their lot with! I’m proud of having stood up for 
them when they were called crazy and all the rest 
of it. Oh, Zacho — Mr. Lauritz, they must not live 
that way any longer. They must do good in some 
other way. They must come and live with us for 
the rest of their lives. Papa needs them.” 

Sitting with comfort and elegance around them, 
they drifted into a conversation about Zacho’s own 


THE TWO HOUSES 


253 


sojourn in the village. His stay had not been 
nearly so long as the Women’s, but long enough 
to learn of many of the wonderful ways — wonder- 
ful only because of the unusualness and queerness 
of the environment — ^by which they were enabled 
to assist and comfort many of the unfortunate 
habitues of the place. 

“It would take too long to tell all that I learned 
about the Women’s helpfulness” — but Thesmi 
looked as if she could listen forever. “They cer- 
tainly exerted a most remarkable influence on my 
fate. I was about to ship to other ports again, — 
anywhere, and in some way they heard about it 
and came to me, urged me, bound me, to remain 
in Seattle and see what would come of it — and see, 
Miss Gouled , — Thesmi what it has done for me!” 
The fine firm emphasis on her name, the freedom, 
as if all obstacles were cast aside, caused the girl 
to start and a rich color to dye her face. “But do 
you know the Women wanted, I think, just to 
hover over me, watch me. Ernst knew who I was 
all the time. How bad I felt when upon returning 
from Coeur d’ Alene I found the village broken 
up and the Women gone no one knew where!” 

“Yes, it’s all a thing of the past now.” The radi- 
ance of Thesmi’s face testified to her interest in 
every word that was said. Zacho’s ingrained charm 
of manner and refinement lent an atmosphere of 
pervasive enjoyment in this interchange of experi- 
ences. 

Not the least interesting thing between this man 
and woman was their incomprehension of each 
other — perhaps to last forever — and if so it might 
be so much the better, thus furnishing a perpetual 


254 


THE TWO HOUSES 


fascination for each other. At any rate, they both 
looked as if life as they had never known it was 
waiting for them. And their love was quiet. 

“How many queer houses they must have lived 
in, — Zacho !” His name — Thesmi’s slow, confiden- 
tial treatment of it, in response to his emphasis of 
her own — how full and simple and strong it sealed 
the wordless compact between them ! 

“Houses! You should see the one they are in 
now! But houses are not their care; their object 
is to care for waifs, to raise every soul to which 
they have access. Adaptable, they have made many 
homes in many places, and original ones too, like 
the one they occupy at present. But they live in 
original ways and work in original ways — that’s 
about all except that their home is always peace- 
ful, because they are one with peace.” 

After a short pause Zacho continued, 

“They gained a vogue too among people not 
usually tolerant of interference in their lives. 
Wherever they threw up their shelter, with whom- 
soever they sojourned, good came of it. They 
brought home to the huts of those around them the 
truth — that life is love and trial ; and they were 
able to do this because their own hearts had been 
tried. But their own sorrows are over now; and 
their affairs are never a matter of discussion. 

“The village — that Mecca of the stranded — 
never failed to stir me with its garish poverty and 
wealth of scenery — beauty of mountain, sea and 
sky. Elliot Bay reminds me of my own home ; the 
pulse-throbs of the sea were my own at times. 
But why should I tell you all this? You know the 
place well.” Zacho looked as if the past was be- 


THE TWO HOUSES 255 

hind him; as if he had come into the future; and, 
too, as if he had found pathways there. 

“Why should you not tell me all this?” Thesmi 
responded warmly, and there was moisture in her 
eyes. “The effect that the very presence even of 
the Women has on my spirit is a thing never to be 
forgotten ; and though I was in only one of their 
Houses — the one in the village — I feel happier even 
when I think of it.” 

More than once during Zacho’s stay Thesmi had 
glanced to where the open letter lay on the floor, 
where she had so unceremoniously dropped it 
in her haste to greet her father. At the best it 
was only in a dull, listless way that she realized 
as yet that she, and not her father, was owner of 
the paying mine. And this accounted for her total 
forgetfulness, or neglectfulness, to mention the 
matter to him in the enjoyment of the hour. Even 
if she had remembered, the fact might not have 
been alluded to — there was no hurry ; and this was 
not a business meeting — friendship ! Love ! was the 
order of the day — and who knows what a day 
may bring forth? 

Zacho had prolonged his stay at Thesmi’s urging 
until her father returned, and he now entered the 
room with his sister, the latter still brushing off 
imaginery specks from his coat sleeve. 

“Come up to the house and spend an hour or 
two with us soon.” Zacho had risen to take leave. 
“I — I — ’m going to miss you all; you’re such true 
and practical friends it makes life worth living. 
We’re going to have the rest up here soon — Evans 
and the Angel and Signa — aren’t we, sister, aren’t 
we, Thesmi?” The master of the house shook 


256 


THE TWO HOUSES 


hands warmly, and with the promise to meet them 
in a few days, Zacho left. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


257 


CHAPTER TWENTY. 

The New Man. 

“New Memnons singing in the great God-light.” 

“Our new friends, Papa, would you care to have 
them pay another visit soon? But perhaps they 
bore you There was a mischievous twinkle in 
Thesmi’s eyes where she sat opposite her father 
at the breakfast table, for his partiality for the 
company was a standing joke in the household. 
He had been fidgety for the past .day or two and 
that always presaged a mild order for his favorites 
to appear at short notice — and with no fear ever 
of disfavor. Like a prince at court he had them 
up to the House on any and every pretence — and 
on no pretence at all if that suited him best. 

“Yes! yes! the very thing I was thinking about, 
Thesmi. Have the good bunch up at once. Do 
you think they’ll care — they’ll care to come ?” 
There was. a mixture of childishness and com- 
mand in her father’s voice that brought a smile to 
Thesmi’s face. 

“We can invite them, anyway, can’t we? They 

can only refuse and ” Thesmi’s dissembling 

was lost upon her father. The responses to gather 
at the Big House were as prompt, the homage as 
loyal as any king could wish. 

Thesmi joined her father where he now stood 
at the window, carefully arranging the long leaves 
of an English primrose, just opening its pale gold 


258 


THE TWO HOUSES 


to the early spring sunshine, and slipped her arm 
through his, murmuring, 

“Oh, papa, what a big, grand man you are! 
How much I love you I How proud I am of you 1” 

Smart tears came into her father’s eyes. All the 
tenderness he was capable of seemed comprised 
into one little gesture — releasing his arm, he bent 
slightly over his daughter for a moment, his hands 
raised — a sort of silent, sacred homage. And that 
was all. 

Thesmi’s joy in her father knew no bounds. 
She had what she had so long ardently desired in 
the home — peace and communion of spirit — the 
only communion of the saints perhaps typified here 
on earth. And that she had been forced through 
stamina, nobility and the womanhood within her 
to conquer what she got made it all none the less 
sweet and precious. 

Mr. Gouled’s delight in flowers and softness 
everywhere and the sudden, sweet bursts of love 
and tenderness surpris^ the household. 

“There’s never a bit of raw temper now, Miss 
Thesmi, and he’s as patient as a lamb. He speaks 
so kindly and is all that a man should be. It is 
worth all the sermons in the world, though there are 
those who wouldn’t mind sneering at him — making 
out that it is very silly and commonplace. Calli- 
machus says he’s converted — made over, made into 
something else, just as waters converted into the 
higher things — the clouds.” Sophy nodded her 
head approvingly as her eyes followed the Master 
of the House where he walked around the large 
room, renewing long lost intimacies, apparently, 
with household gods, — touching the bric-a-brac. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


259 


looking into cherished volumes and other things. 
“And, Miss Thesmi, you yourself are nearly again 
the Thesmi of old.” 

Thesmi gave a low, happy trill. Then she sud- 
denly lapsed into a revery as if she was wondering 
if she really was the Thesmi of old — Thesmi of the 
Den in the garret, where sovereign flying ants sailed 
in and lodged their hoard amid dust and discarded 
things, and where her day-dreams had been of 
moonlight music and kingly waifs. 

“Miss Thesmi,” Sophy, who was carefully wip- 
ing some rare china from a small wooden tub set 
on the table, brought the girl back to the present, 
“here’s Callimachus coming to see me about some- 
thing, would your father care to speak to him? 
The only people who can interest Callimachus are 
such high ones they have no time for him. But if 
your father ” 

“Papa, this is Callimachus, of whom you have 
heard. I’m sure.” Thesmi, with suave dignity in- 
troduced the men. 

“Oh, yes, Mr. Gouled, everybody’s heard of 
Callimachus. He’s thought to be nothing but a 
freak, — but even a freak sometimes has a quality 
that, wrought in with something else of its kind, 
can make for something rare. We never can tell.” 
Sophy’s defence of her son illustrated the old say- 
ing that “Every crow thinks it own young the 
whitest.” 

Something that the one of ancient name said cap- 
tivated the new heart of Gouled, and he turned to 
Thesmi, saying cordially, 

“Let Callimachus and his mother join the bunch. 
We’ll expect you, won’t we, Thesmi?” 


260 


THE TWO HOUSES 


“We certainly shall/^ returned Thesmi with such 
sweetness and earnestness that mother and son 
looked at her as if she might be the Blessed 
Damozel. 

There was a touch of the dramatic when the 
lanky Callimachus made his bows. He looked 
proud of the distinction of being near the converted 
timber land broker. And Sophy, looking up at him 
seemed even prouder still of the distinction of being 
his mother. 

Sophy and her son always accepted the thrill- 
ableness of their own natures. That was the secret 
of their happiness. They lived in accord with 
nearly all around them. Indeed, they lived the life 
they longed to live — an inspired vision, a vista of 
their own secret longings. 

The “bunch” were expected the following day, 
and the sunny living-room and parlor were being 
brightened and polished for the occasion. From 
an adjoining ravine Thesmi had brought sword 
and other ferns and was filling every available re- 
ceptacle with the gracious things — for in the house- 
hold it was believed that the fronds brought good 
luck. 

An opportunity came for Sophy, who was polish- 
ing the floors, when Thesmi was placing a particu- 
larly delicate bunch in a pale-green Japanese jar- 
diniere, to give a little junk of mystery, one of 
her “touches”. She could always turn to the “in- 
side” of her and sort out the yarns that would fit. 

“Things are coming your way Miss Thesmi. 
Things are coming to pass. ‘And it came to pass.^ 
How often we read and don’t think what the words 
mean! Well, the meaning of what came to pass 


THE TWO HOUSES 


261 


with me — or rather what passed before me — is be- 
yond my telling. Whenever I saw that clump of 
ferns in the green vase, I thought of my vision. 
They all passed before me, in review — weeds, 
shrubs, the minor growths — not trees; and they 
bowed when they passed — made obeisance to me 
and announced themselves by name, each thing as 
it passed. Wasn’t it wonderful. Miss Thesmi ! 
But the weeds and things were glorified, grand ; the 
common, blade of grass was given dignity and pro- 
portion. Each little spire tapered into a dry husk- 
looking thread until lost to sight. And the names 
they gave in passing were not the names they bear 
on earth ; none of them were known to me, though 
I recognized many of the growths, and the names 
were repeated distinctly, but I couldn’t bring back 
one. Callimachus was grieved that I couldn’t re- 
member some of them at least. But we can’t do 
everything, can we. Miss Thesmi?’ 

Neighbor Sophy paused in her rubbing reflective- 
ly after this irrelevant conclusion. That she could 
not wholly gratify her son’s desires in his Swami 
pursuit of the occult evidently was to be deplored. 

The appeal that Sophy made on behalf of her 
stories was, really, as of old, to miracles. The mar- 
vel-stalking instinct was paramount with her. And 
her stories and dreams were merely an embarrass- 
ment of her endowment. And if this narrative 
surpassed the limits of credulity, it was sprinkled 
at least with the gem of ingenuity. Life a featured 
top-liner, attention was arrested. 

The ascription of being a thief could perhaps be 
as well hers as in the old mythologies Hermes is so 
dubbed. She stole, apparently some of the goods 


262 


THE TWO HOUSES 


of some of the gods at least, intruding into their 
province as well. She knew nothing whatever 
about the “arrows” of Apollo, nor of the “oxen” 
of Admetus, yet she could and did obtain meanings 
of life not common in her walk. And there are 
not two kinds of truth. 

And of course it was hard for her to make cog- 
nizable by words that which she received in symbols 
and images. And no one could say but that her 
philosophy was always well mixed with the reality 
of things. 

“So you see. Miss Thesmi,” she continued, rising 
from the floor, “everything’s bowing to you now — 
They’re all making obeisance to you. Look at your 
father 1 Not long ago he would listen to nothing, 
and now he hangs on every word that falls from 
your lips. Callimachus is walking on stilts ever 
since he’s been invited to the house. He’s always 
craved better company, and now he’s got it.” 
Sophy’s voice sank to a most confiding tone. “Your 
father ’n’ him ’re hugging each other now.” The 
rubbing of floors went on for a minute in silence, 
but Sophy was not through. 

“But you qualified for all you’re getting. Miss 
Thesmi. And that’s what I say — qualify yourself 
for a thing ’n’ it’ll come.” It did not seem to enter 
Sophy’s mind that she herself must have qualified 
somewhere along the line to have raised the rudi- 
mentary notch-chord and thus be able to give her 
elucidative yarns as she did. Her soul may have 
been in advance in some respects, though far in ar- 
rears in others. 

“If you qualify for a doctor it doesn’t matter a 
mite whether you never have a patient or not; if 


THE TWO HOUSES 


263 


for a lawyer, what about a client? If for a 
preacher, never mind the congregation. It’s only 
the qualification that counts. It’s only — ” 

When Thesmi repaired to the hall in response to 
the message that some one wished to see her, cutting 
Sophy’s remarks in two, she found the clerk, his 
trousers creased with the nicest precision, his shoes 
of high class make spotless, and his hair as smooth 
as a barber’s pole, awaiting her. He had declined 
entering, and stood stiff in the doorway, a bulky 
roll of — parchment it might have been, from some 
old King’s Book of the Dead. At any rate, he 
shifted and twisted and toyed it back and forth with 
ludicrous concern. 

Thesmi braced with unmistakable dignity, for of 
late the fellow’s intimacy of manner had become un- 
endurable. His cruel eyes showed the double nature 
that lay behind the man’s otherwise commonplace 
nature. With a melodramatic air, and apparently 
in tremendous trepidation for fear the opportunity 
would pass, he thrust the roll under her eyes, and 
hissed out, 

“It will pay you to treat me with a little more 
consideration and respect. I’ve had more than 
enough of your imperiousness before now.” He 
twirled the “roll” and then shot out at her, “I’ve 
evidence here that can humble you,” and at the 
same time tragically drew out the thing to arm^s 
length. He looked for all the world like one who 
saw his opportunity and took it, — like one deter- 
mined to win the race, and, reckless, driving at aj 
terrific pace, the throttle wide open, shoots into 
the last lap — and disaster. Suddenly he remem- 


264 THE TWO HOUSES 

bered something, and turned on his heel and was 
gone. 

Thesmi, hardly able to make up her mind as to 
whether the man was pert or impertinent, and barely 
able to keep back a laugh at the whinisicality of the 
thing, entered the sitting room, her face a study 
notwithstanding. 

“Wasn’t that Judd, from the office, Thesmi?” 
her father asked with more interest than he had 
theretofore shown in anything. “What did he 
want with you?” 

The answer came with the snap of a steel spring, 
“I don’t know.” A disquieting look came over the 
girl’s face. She knew the clerk had a passion for 
jealousy, and was too vindictive to be honest. She 
knew too that he cared nothing for the sincere ob- 
servation that goes deeper than theatrical poses; 
that he had no interest in the simple but far more 
thrilling altitudes of real life. But that he could be 
hanging around the house for the purpose of de- 
stroying her peace by placing in Zacho’s hands evi- 
dence of what he was pleased to call her “duplicity” 
did not occur to her. Some skulking spirit of mis- 
chief attended the man. He had piled up incredible 
stuff in the roll, — charges and counter-charges. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


26S 


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. 

The House Party. 

“No life can be pure in its purpose and strong 
in the strife, and all life not be purer and 
stronger thereby.” 

The Gouled House was still in the high altitudes 
of beatific love and intercourse — for the social do- 
ings were not hampered by dreary conventions — 
when the clerk returned next day. With Machia- 
vellian adroitness he had gained entrance at the 
right time. He came to the house on the pretext 
of presenting a document for signature, but it was 
just another and sly way of inviting himself to the 
Party. And the very first thing Thesmi knew, he 
had joined her group at the farthest end of the 
room. This particular group consisted of herself, 
Zacho, Evans and the Angel. The clerk had hur- 
ried his footsteps and was breathing hard. In a 
way that was little short of rude, yet, as he evi- 
dently thought, authorized by the exigencies of the 
case, the clerk surveyed Thesmi from head to foot, 
letting the roll drop — like the falling of a curtain — 
and with a voice like the dismal blare of a fog-horn 
he shouted, 

“You owned Tin-Tin Mine all the time and never 
let on when you took all that money without giving 
an acknowledgement. I’ve come to denounce you 
before your friends. You’ve duped them. You 
roped in a rich Englishman, — you’re engaged to 
him. You’ve been receiving letters from England 


266 


THE TWO HOUSES 


right along — and now youVe roped him in,” point- 
ing with outstretched arm at Zacho, whom he now 
faced. 

Thesmi had shrank close to the white shield of 
the Angel’s bosom, her eyes opening and shutting 
spasmodically, like one shrinking from a blow. 

Evans looked bewildered — for him, and Zacho, 
frothing at the outrage, sprang up crying, 

“This can’t go on; this ” 

“Yes!” Thesmi was before him. “It shall go on. 

Let him speak. Let him tell all he ” 

“Oh, you’ll let me speak, will you? The Prin- 
cess will let me speak. I’m coming to my own, am 
I? What did you do with all that money, eh?” 
The man stood threateningly over her but she did 
not shrink this time. 

“I was engaged to an Englishman, but I’m not 
now. Let him speak I” Thesmi’s color and cour- 
age had returned. She took no notice of the 
Angel’s outstretched arms, but with little gasps now 
and then, faced her accuser. 

“He wants to hurt her,” sobbed Angel-Mary- 
Gold. “He wants to hurt her all he can.” 

With an emphatic flourish of his pencil, that 
spoke much for his imagination, but little for his 
actual knowledge, and as if he had been granted 
the floor, the clerk excitedly began, 

“This roll ” 

“Come, come, you and your odious roll have no 
place here.” It was Evans who now started for- 
ward. Discreetly self-effacing for the time, he had 
his hand on the clerk’s shoulder, the smouldering 
light in the Dane’s eyes having warned him that 
trouble of a serious kind was imminent. “Miss 


THE TWO HOUSES 267 

Gouled has only to look in the faces of her friends 
and find all the faith in her she wants there.” 

“Friends !” — choked the clerk as he was being 
moved off. “Her respectability doesn’t permit the 
relation of all that she did, so her friends are left 
to surmise it.” His cynical voice definitely linked 
her name with mercenary motives — if not worse. 
The paper he made so much of really contained 
memoranda accurately remembered. In a last 
desperate effort he flung in the face of the old 
miner, “Why she’s trying to land two fortunes at 
the same time I’m at a loss !” 

“This is a fine peter-out. There’s nothing pussy- 
footed here, I can tell you.” The miner wheeled 
the viper around and waved his hand freely in the 
direction of Thesmi and Zacho. “But you’ve got 
some incorrect ideas in your head, pard. Your 
statements are all on the wrong side of the form 
this time. And you’re all out in the game where 
they are concerned. Can’t you understand that he 
sees nothing but her eyes; hears nothing but her 
voice? He took high ground from the first as far 
as she was concerned. His love is his life, his re- 
ligion.” 

All this was said mildly enough but the would-be 
lago, offered no resistance, for when the large 
primitive emotions of the old miner got in action 
the air became singularly clear. 

It was customary at these gatherings for the 
guests to organize little corners on any supply they 
choose, and the dignity of grown up people disap- 
peared. The tones of voice were but lightly sub- 
dued, this being no drawing-room affair. Thus the 
others in the room were unaware of the “roll” 


268 THE two HOUSES 

scene and were happily engrossed in themselves in 
their various coteries. Yet though there were con- 
fidential dialogues in the little separate groups, and 
the convivality was charming, there never was in> 
trusive familiarity at these conventions of comedy. 

Things were moving along smoothly and in an 
interesting fashion for Aunt Meg and Ernst at the 
house party. It looked like a called meeting. And 
certainly the divine craze is no respecter of age. 
They had ensconced themselves in a retired nook 
near the door and were exchanging incredible 
things to make themselves understood; Ernst’s 
ability to gesture helping things out. And certainly 
there was no insufficiency of vigor. There was no 
mushroom growth that ever made the record in 
growing like that made by Meg and Ernst in love. 
Whether Aunt Meg was really contemplating 
matrimony or not was unimportant. The fact that 
she had been touched in a vulnerable spot was the 
thing. They may have appeared highly diverting 
to others, but they were merely human beings in 
love’s masquerade. 

The sight of them seemed to augment afresh the 
clerk’s aroused emotions, and he impudently took a 
stand in front of the cooing pair, almost defying 
Evans to move him along on his way to the door. 

Evidently he thought that Aunt Meg was old 
enough to know better, and he looked as if he 
would like to take charge of her for the purpose 
of putting a crimp in love long enough to let com- 
mon sense come into its own. 

Ernst and Meg certainly were in a class by 
themselves, but that conferred no right on the in- 
truder to annul the old guarantee of two being com- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


269 


pany and three none. At all events, they plainly 
evinced that in their game of two the prying third 
party had no place. There was no reverence in the 
clerk’s behaviour, and some people are very sensi- 
tive about certain affairs and are not slow to re- 
taliate when any peculiarity of theirs is ridiculed. 
It was plainly evident that they thought that he 
was an intruder, and that he was there for the bald 
purpose of poking fun at them — making comedy 
out of them. And the clerk acted likewise as if he 
thought it belonged to his dignity to let them know 
that he knew what was going on. 

Aunt Meg began to buzz like a hornet under the 
espionage, threatening temporary disaster for the 
courtship, and Ernst’s kindly, alert countenance 
darkened. Evans began to shove the clerk on, and 
just then Aunt Meg rose suddenly and came so 
gigantically toward them that there was a ludicrous 
mixture of the three for an instant, and a little titter 
of laughter from across the room at the same time, 
showed that they were in the lime-light. 

The titter came from Sophy, and the Women, 
who had witnessed the obvious defeat of the clerk, 
and who now, fearing that they had been led too 
far into pleasantry, sat covering their mouth with 
their hands. With Mr. Gouled as a centre of 
things, they, with Callimachus, formed an interest- 
ing group by themselves. 

Even Evans stopped to chuckle and furthered the 
amusement by saying, “There are no slow moments 
here, I can tell you. Old-fashioned love’s the best 
— it’s the thing — it’s the thing! it’s contagious, it’s 
in the air.” And he quoted from the Welsh, 


270 


THE TWO HOUSES 


“What’s decreed will come to pass ; and what comes 
not today will come tomorrow.” 

As, step by step, he was escorted on his way, 
the clerk again began his ravings, and Evans 
laughingly advised him, “Come on. You needn’t 
be saying things up your sleeve or under your 
breath. You thought to dig up a tragedy, and in- 
stead you’ve created a barrel of fun ; and the little 
foolishness certainly has brightened you up. Have 
you ever heard the proverb ‘The crow is the guard- 
ian of others when he is croaking.’ Well, your 
croaking has only firmed things up.” 

Evans in his whole-heartedness half-pitied the 
scribe, and it may have been this sympathy that 
unlocked the deeps — or the shallows — of the clerk’s 
soul. 

“Of course you’ll ask why should I reflect on the 
woman like that,” he began at the door. “Well, 
I’ve got my reasons. If you’ve never loved hope- 
lessly, never been turned down, it is no use trying 
to explain. You would never understand why I 
tried to break this match off when I thought I could 
possibly never have her.” This was said in the 
impersonal tone of one speaking to himself. He 
scratched his head and seemed trying to conjure 
up his vanished revenge. “Oh, yes, sometimes I 
run an errand, and I’m always expected to be in 
readiness for Her Highness.” 

“Well, pard, you had some show of color for 
some of the things you said, but you wasted your 
breath when you tried to put between those two. 
God Almighty has joined them, sure. Your 
bridges have all fell in behind you. Come to the 
wedding.” 


THE TWO HOUSES 


271 


“And this is what a fellow gets for trying to 
point out the way.” And the passing of the clerk 
was interesting only for the absurdity disclosed, 
and that brought a smile. 

When Evans rejoined his group, Angel-Mary- 
Gold was coddling Thesmi to her heart’s content. 
Traces of tears were on the girl’s face, and Zacho 
was protesting with all his might against some con- 
fession or other she was endeavoring to force upon 
him. 

. /'You will listen. You have wanted to hear more 
about that money,” she burst on Evans. “He sits 
there smiling incredulously, and I have difficulty in 
making him listen to my confession. Oh, how I 
have longed to tell you both all that I am going to 
tell you now ! What must you have thought of 
me?” Her eyes slowly sought Zacho’s, who in- 
stantly responded, 

“Just what I thought of you the night I first saw 
you — what I must always think of you, — never any- 
thing less — never a doubt. It was Evans who 
doubted.” 

“Me !” cried the surprised, matter-of-fact culprit. 
“Me doubt her! No! No! Zacho, you mistake. 
But what is that old saying — Caesar’s wife must be 
above suspicion. It — it — was you I was thinking 
about.” 

“Well, never mind all that just now. You’re 
both going to hear my story from beginning to end. 
Time and again I have had the words on my lips 
when alone with Zacho, but some shrinking sense 
of dishonor to my home kept the words back. I 
couldn’t bring myself to tell it.” 

And Thesmi told everything — indeed, like the 


272 


THE TWO HOUSES 


Ancient Mariner, she could not be kept back from 
telling it. So far as the Tin-Tin Mine was con- 
cerned, she had given it so little thought that, she 
explained, she had for a time forgotten all about 
being the owner. Of her almost engulfment with 
the Englishman, of her deep though hidden despair 
of ever seeing the musician of the moonlight night 
again, — all was told. Even the privacy of her Den 
was given up to the moist-eyed audience ; her Den 
where she so often tried to conjure up heavenly 
music she had so strangely heard. Unwittingly too 
she told of her loneliness, of no hand held out to 
help her in her stand for freedom from the domin- 
ance of her English lover — unless it was Signals 
Christ-like look that brought her back to herself 
and safety. 

Thesmi had gained a great deal in repose — 
through her natural intensity often apt to be lack- 
ing — and through this repose, more than anything 
else, her voice and manner commanded attention. 
But her repose was not proof against the atrocious 
accusations ; and she ended by sobbing out to 
Zacho, 

'‘And then for a whole year I never saw you; 
did not even know whether you remembered me or 
not.” 

"Remember you !” Zacho broke the circle at last 
and clasped her close. 

In an aside to his wife, which was not obtrusive, 
Evans said, "I knew there was a mystery about that 
money ; but I knew too that it would all be cleared 
up.” And he looked as if at last he had got a few 
deep-seated convictions out of his mind. 


THE TWO HOUSES 


273 


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 

Ralph Allingham Crosses the Sea. 

“When the gods begin a thing it is never left 
undone — it is finished then.” 

Many days were past and gone since Ralph 
Allingham had left Seattle, and now in the spacious 
drawing-room of the old ancestral home, his eyes 
rested for a darkening second on an open letter 
in his hand, which he had read over once, twice, 
thrice. 

The sordid epistle was from the agent in Van- 
couver and was filled with descriptions of the 
writer’s discoveries of frauds, and closed with 
loud congratulations on the timely escape of his 
fellow-countryman from the “clap-trap” laid for 
him in Seattle. 

The English are a stolid people. They have few 
equals in reserve and poise. But they are human 
and aflFlicted with all the frailties of the race. 

Ralph paced the room annoy edly a few times 
after reading the letter, then stopped decidedly 
before the couch on which the Mater reclined. 

“Allow me to read this. Mater mine,” he said 
in a tense voice, his eyes shining with excitement, 
and he read rapidly and finished by emphasizing 
the word “clap-trap.” 

“Clap-trap! indeed!” the Mater ejaculated, ris- 
ing in dignity from the couch and seating herself 
in a great arm chair, while the color mounted 
slowly to her pale cheeks, “It’s outrageous ! Who 


274 


THE TWO HOUSES 


is your agent? What kind of a creature tQ, have 
made such a mistake? Thesmi Gouled couldn^t be 
that kind even if she tried/’ 

The fact that the Mater had been instrumental — 
and almost imperatively so — was an additional in- 
centive to the Englishwoman’s taking the Western 
girl’s part. 

“The whole affair is incomprehensible — and not 
to be fully understood without investigation.” 
Ralph’s tone was tinged with impatience more than 
disappointment or sorrow. “And you can scarcely 
deny, defend her as you may see fit, that Miss 
Gouled’s conduct on the whole in returning my 
letters unopened — without deigning to offer the 
least explanation — is abominable.” 

The Mater looked up at her tall, handsome son, 
who looked fretted by inaction, — and something 
else, and when she spoke there was real regret in 
her voice. 

“It is simply incredible that Thesmi Gouled 
should be merely whimsical. She is of such even 
balance — and of so much promise!” 

“I confess to fail to see wherein she is of such 
even balance in my case,” Ralph tartly rejoined. 
“She certainly accepted my advances with frank 
pleasure — if at times a little too coy and distant. 
There was nothing forced upon her.” 

The Mater was undisguisedly disappointed in 
the turn of affairs, and spiritedly harked back to 
Thesmi’s character. 

“Nothing can shake my faith in the girl. I fre- 
quently felt when in her company as I do at a real 
good play — a specially fine act — where you get all 
that is written into it — and often much more. I 


THE TWO HOUSES 


275 


felt, too, that she was seen only in roles that but 
lightly touched her great capabilities. And the man — 
your agent, he must have over-stepped his author- 
ity, misrepresented something to the girl.” 

“But even allowing for all that that meddles- 
some scoundrel in Vancouver took upon himself, 
why did she not write ? It looks very much as if she 

was — well, quite ready to ” Ralph did not 

finish the sentence but there was a very settled, 
finished look upon his face that did not escape the 
Mater’s eyes. 

The mother and son had their differences — vital 
ones too — but in respect to womankind their ideals 
were much alike. 

A vein of selfishness ran unwittingly through 
the Mater’s regrets, for Ralph, she knew, would be 
the beneficiary in many ways in a union with 
Thesmi. He, to be sure, had the whole ground of 
good fortune to stand upon, and had youth on his 
side, but he was as yet a boy in the greater man- 
hood. She sighed a little wearily as she held up 
a small transparent hand to the light. Fate had 
dealt outrageously with her when sickness had 
prevented Ralph’s return to the girl in the West. 

A few days later, Ralph stood before the Mater 
again, nervously tapping a letter with the back of 
his hand. 

“This is a bill of exchange for the total amount 
of our investments handled by Mark Gouled with- 
out a word of explanation, other than, ‘All busi- 
ness closed between Mark Gouled and the Ailing- 
hams.’ And this is in Miss Gouled’s handwriting, 
not her father’s. — Why, the strange part of it is 
too that she transacts the business — why, she knew 


276 


THE TWO HOUSES 


nothing about business or money affairs when I 
saw her last. It’s all mystery.” 

‘‘At all events,” the Mater coldly testified, “this 
nullifies your agent’s atrocious imputation that the 
girl was mercenary. She was a little radical — a 
little prejudiced — and often expressed herself 
fearlessly — yet always with courtesy. Her father 
never understood her — a girl’s inner consciousness 
is so hard to get at — but Thesmi mercenary, 
never.” 

Altogether mother and son treated the affair 
very philosophically, although they did gasp a lit- 
tle when the news first came. There was no rag- 
ing with good old British anger. They were too 
well-bred for that. And of course it was not usual 
for a girl in Miss Gouled’s station in life to treat 
an affair of this kind in this way — it was unheard 
of. And it would never do to appear to take her 
dismissal of Ralph too seriously. 

“What a pity the girl was motherless!” The 
Mater’s tone was a trifle petulant. “She might 
have been born to the purple; she evinced at all 
times evidence of refinement and good breeding — 
real general culture, and would be permitted any- 
where to society. But she cared nothing for show.” 

Ralph’s brows contracted rather impatiently 
while listening. The long tedium of his mother’s 
illness had told upon him. He was restless. Direct 
contact with fate was more desirable than this far 
distance of longitude and time. He always had the 
courage of his own resolutions, and he now bent 
over his mother affectionately, saying, 

“You are out of all danger now. Mater mine, 
and there was so much I wanted to see and investi- 


THE TWO HOUSES 


277 


gate across seas — those mountains — there’s treas- 
ure there, and scenery! And there was that curi- 
ous district, and those ladies; and, — and that colon- 
ization scheme. I left so hastily that nothing was 
completed.” 

Ralph’s tone was now light, eager, even boyish. 
The Mater looked up a trifle startled, but she did 
not argue the matter. As a girl she had been mild 
and sentimental, as a woman she was tenacious of 
her ideals, but never too insistent. 

“Benson,” Ralph called, “go out and engage a 

stateroom on the L for New York.” He 

turned to the Mater again, “I will be in Seattle 
within a month.” 


278 


THE TWO HOUSES 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE. 

A Surprise. 

“Truthfulness to self is, in any and every 
sphere of life, the only secret of power.” 

The “bunch” were embarked again — not for 
famed Cythera — but for another party at the 
Gouled House. Specifically, it was the occasion of 
Mark Gouled, who, returned to his home folks, 
welcomed the bunch in a manner which showed 
that loyalty doesn’t grow less because of intimacy. 
Of course came the greetings first of all. It was 
very necessary that these should be. No boredom 
either was ever shown at having to recognize each 
other, no matter how often they met. And if even 
the Party did seem a familiar muddle at first — 
and some people would not have been able to appre- 
ciate it at all, — Thesmi soon reduced it to compara- 
tive order and before long there was enough 
repartee and nonsense for them all to exercise 
their wits upon. And of course the conversation, 
for the most part, as at such gatherings it is sure 
to be, was inconsecutive. 

The bass-base voice of Evans rose in the air 
through the hum of trebles, altos, and mezzo- 
sopranos. 

“This is a little bit of all right — a Garden-of- 
Eden sort of affair. What’s wanted on earth more 
than this?” 

Some of the costumes worn, so far as value was 
concerned, could have been fixed at bargain-counter 


I 


THE TWO HOUSES 


279 


prices, but to estimate their bearing to one an- 
other, a suggestion from some of the old courts of 
France would be needed. 

Smiling and gracious in his new role, Mr. 
Gouled was the centre of the “bunch” shaking 
hands heartily and with a jovial humor challenging 
Evans and Zacho to vain and extreme adventures. 

The Women, covetously hanging on to every 
word he said, every step he took, still tried to per- 
suade themselves that they were necessary to his 
welfare and comfort. This was all reported in 
their gestures — stooping to tie an imaginary shoe- 
string — even smoothing back — when they forgot 
themselves — a stray lock of hair — always seeking 
for something to do for him, something to fill their 
empty hands and hearts. 

Neighbor Sophy and her son Callimachus were 
there, both proud of the distinction of being guests 
in the big house. Sophy for so long had been a 
friend to Thesmi that she was not looked upon as 
a servant. 

Aunt Meg, in a richly-dyed plump silk — and 
there was no speck of dust lurking in its folds, 
either — overlooked the entire menage with Argus 
eyes. She was complete mistress of herself now 
as well as of the household. 

Whatever there was or was not in the air, it was 
not the style of the Party — the free ripple of 
speech, the odd outcroppings of affection, things 
not buyable — that made it most illuminative. It 
was noticeable that all cosy corners were cut off at 
this meeting. It savored more of general import- 
ance and intercourse, though if asked why, no one 
could tell. 


280 


THE TWO HOUSES 


But altogether it was a snappy Party, filled to 
the brim with all that makes life worth while, — and 
there may have been a strange foregleam of what 
was to come, even through the elusive ordinary 
that sometimes turns out so extraordinary. 

And when into this ordinary, constricted, Bo- 
hemian gathering, uninvited, unheralded, Ralph 
Allingham entered, the extraordinary thing hap- 
pened. 

When Thesmi got breath and succeeded in recog- 
nizing the new-comer, she in her Western innocence 
looked for a scene. But there was none, nothing 
whatever to startle her American blood. The 
monocled Englishman came into the room a mix- 
ture of light-hearted boyishness and Anglo-Saxon 
lordliness. His high-bred camaraderie fashion of 
greeting left nothing in its wake but the fact that 
he was there and its resultant surprise. And 
though his conversation was extremely ingratiating, 
yet she looked a little curiously surprised — if not 
disappointed. Thesmi was the only one he had 
time to greet, for before introductions or anything 
else could take place, a sea-blown whirlwind of 
broken English and beauty took the assemblage by 
storm. 

In the unconscious pause brought about by Ralph’s 
entrance, and when all eyes were riveted upon him, 
Zacho was the only one present who saw the flutter- 
ing, fluflfy-garmented girl — a veritable nymph — 
pause an instant on the threshold, and, meeting his 
gaze, heard the low cry, “Zacho !” and with a rush 
she was in his arms. 

“Margaurita! my Margaurita!” he murmured, 
and 


THE TWO HOUSES 281 

“Zacho ! Runaway !” came in smothered accents 
from his breast. 

Endless seemed the greetings and endearing 
names exchanged, sometimes in English, sometimes 
in Danish. “Oh, you runaway,” she repeated, “the 
search for you has jumped from Denmark to 
Seattle !” The noticeable accent lent a piquancy to 
her speech that was irresistible. 

Rarely was seen a more bewildering, vivacious 
woman than the one hanging so rapturously on 
Zacho’s neck. Her voice was tense, vibrant and 
filled now with affection. It carried too the velvet of 
cultivation. The quivering overtones filled the 
room, the words poured out hot from her over- 
charged heart. 

In her whirlwind rush across the room the girl 
had swept close to Ralph, who, jerked out of his 
languidness, exclaimed, 

“Why, why, that’s my steamer companion, that 
fascinating Danish girl whom I parted with at New 
York !” and he coldly surveyed Zacho from head to 
foot. 

It was the girl herself, in her own delightful way, 
who first apologized to the room for her overex- 
uberance of feeling. As she spoke her eyes met 
Ralph’s, and for a second another scene was threat- 
ened, so impetuously did she hold out her hand, 
exclaiming, 

“You here? What a surprise! What a delight- 
ful surprise! How strange that we should meet 
again so soon!” 

Slowly her glance took in the room, enquiringly, 
and her search was rewarded — her arms were 
around Thesmi, showering her with kisses. 


282 


THE TWO HOUSES 


“You can be none other than my brother’s sweet- 
heart — Thesmi! You can be none other than the 
one I am so soon to call sister. You see I know 
everything. Ernst told me all on my way here. He 
met me at Tacoma. Oh, what should I have done 
without him ? It was through him, and those 
ladies — who were once — but who are now known 
here, Ernst tells me, as The Two Women. What 
has it not meant that our beloved Zacho fell in 
such good hands?” 

Thesmi, who sat spellbound, and was looking 
enquiringly — and something else — and who had 
even forgotten her duties as hostess, returned the 
kisses passionately, a new light breaking over her 
face. 

“Sister! Sister!” she exclaimed in a low choky 
voice. “How I have longed for a sister ! I thought 
at first that you — you were — . But I know now. 
You are Margaurita, Zacho’s favorite sister. How 
often he has spoken of you. How much he has told 
me about you ! Oh, how beautiful !” 

Ralph, who had overheard the conversation, now 
joined them, a new light on his face also. The 
delectable revelation evidently surprised as well as 
pleased him. 

“Sister, brother. Oh, ah!” He assiduously led 
the conversation, and it soon became evident that he 
was on more than mere speaking terms with the 
girl. As for Thesmi, sitting silently by, Margaurita 
was the flower for the bee-like Ralph, and she the 
calyx only. Zacho, who had been in earnest and 
apparently absorbing conversation with Ernst for 
some time, now joined the three, and a general 
introduction followed. 


THE TWO HOUSES 283 

All things revolved about the girl who had last 
entered. 

It transpired later that correspondence between 
Ernst and the sister had culminated in the latter’s 
taking steamer at Liverpool for the far West. She 
met Ralph on the steamer and a violent attachment, 
that threatened whirlwind nuptials, was the result. 
A romantic correspondence, and a meeting later, 
were planned, when it became known that their 
ultimate destination was Seattle. Ralph understood 
that friends awaited her in New York and that 
some time would elapse before her journey would 
be resumed. But the head of the banking house 
transacting business on that side of the world for 
her father, failing to appear promptly, as previous 
correspondence led her family to believe he would, 
she proceeded on her way immediately, arriving in 
Seattle about the same time as Ralph, who had paid 
a visit to Vancouver before deciding to interview 
the Gouleds. 

And thus it came about that they arrived in the 
home within a few minutes of each other. Ralph 
of course was totally unaware of the Party. Not 
so Margaurita. Ernst had told her who were to be 
there, and in her impulsive way she demanded to 
be taken there at once — would take no denial. 

There was an animated session in cozy corners 
again after the delightful introductions were over, 
and the steamer-girl with the marvellous brown 
eyes and fluffy chestnut hair and the high-bred 
Englishman occupied the expansion seat. But 
when Zacho took up his violin and drew the bow 
across the strings, breaking into a ravishing air of 
his country, his sister, deserting her vis-a-vis, swept 


284 


THE TWO HOUSES 


to the piano and touched the keys in concert with 
the beautiful air. Her swift, light movements, her 
unconscious grace, held the room spellbound, and a 
low wave of plaudits broke from the small audience, 
with no less interest than greets a prima donna. 

Under cover of the applause. Neighbor Sophy 
whispered to Thesmi, 

“It doesn’t do to keep all the good things to our- 
selves, does it. Miss Thesmi? You’re going across 
seas all right on your wedding trip — though not to 
England. But there’s a wedding headed for there 
all the same, though you’re not in it. We’re sur- 
rounded on all sides by love — streams of it running 
brimful. It doesn’t need the yellowing pussy 
willows outdoors to tell us that spring is here — it’s 
with us in this room — and nothing else.” 

Zacho was approaching, and she hastened Thes- 
mi’s ear. 

“Marriages are made in heaven, they say. Miss 
Thesmi. But they’re made on earth too — for the 
earth’s the bull we have to take by the horns if 
anything’s to be made at all.” She whimpered and 
wiped her eyes. “But who’ll I tell my visions and 
dreams to when you’re gone. Miss Thesmi? What 
a comfort you’ve been to me! — I had one last 
night — the latest thing — but some other time you’ll 
hear it.” 


THE END. 












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PRESERVATION TECHNOLO 
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